


Danse Macabre

by BossGoose, Charmkeeper



Series: Miles to Go Before I Sleep [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: A lot of Feathers, AU within an AU, Canon Typical Violence, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Immediately Followed by Major Character Undeath, It's Zombies Yo., M/M, Major character death - Freeform, can be read as a standalone, established relationships - Freeform, feathers - Freeform, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-24 14:15:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossGoose/pseuds/BossGoose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmkeeper/pseuds/Charmkeeper
Summary: Prompto woke up and thought he'd been pranked. That was bad enough. Finding out he's technically undead? Even worse.





	1. It Was a Graveyard Smash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween Season! <3
> 
> I first want to note a couple things about the story and the series it's attached to. While I do say (and mean) up in the tags that this story can be read **without having read the rest of the series**, this story does also contain **spoilers** for the ongoing series, though, we feel that none of those spoilers are anything one might not guess or figure out on their own. Still, I feel it fair to warn you here, so that if you wanted to hold off on reading this story for a while, you may.
> 
> Also, be aware that while we have taken and used this series' backstory and dynamics for this fic, this story is not canon to the rest of series.
> 
> The way this story is going to work is that every other day we will be posting a chapter until the story's completion on Halloween itself. Every chapter title is from a fun/spooky Halloween song that we definitely recommend everyone listen to because TIS THE SEASON. *throws confetti* However, we will not be telling you what song's the lyrics are from until the end, because we want you to guess.
> 
> Please mind the tags and enjoy the story! <3

Everything hurt.

Even the hand holding onto his own hurt. It was a hand too big to be Noctis' and too small to be Gladio's. It must have been Ignis'. Yes. That made sense. Especially considering that he could hear Ignis speaking.

"Prompto. Stay with me."

His voice was so distant, like they were miles apart through water. He could barely hear. Where was he? He couldn't see him. All he could see was the ceiling. It was on fire. He closed his eyes.

"Prompto! No!"

He opened his eyes again to the fire. His breath. He couldn't catch it. It came in short breaths. Staccato, Ignis would probably call it. He was hyperventilating. He thought. Maybe. Through the pain.

"Stay with me! Noctis will be here soon. He'll have a phoenix down. You must stay with me that long!"

He tried. He always tried to do what Ignis asked, but soon he closed his eyes and could not open them again.

...

...

...

Prompto awoke to complete darkness.

There was a moment of confusion before Prompto's brain kicked in and he bothered to be scared. His hands made straight up for his eyes, as though rubbing them would fix it if he were blind. There was a crack and pain as his hands collided with something solid. What? He patted at it. It was definitely solid. When he pushed at it, it didn't have any give.

"The fuck?"

Okay. Okay. Calm down. Deep breaths. Take stock of his situation. That's what Cor would tell him and the other recruits to do. It was hard to remain calm when all he found by taking stock of the situation was that he was in a small padded box. Ah shit. He was so fucking claustrophobic. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

Okay. Okay. He could deal. Prompto knew what had probably happened now. One of the other fucking recruits had found out he was claustrophobic, and they told the other recruits, and after they'd had a good laugh about it they'd gone _'Whelp, Argentum's being super annoying again, let's shut him up for a bit.'_ Because there was definitely no better way to shut him up than to drug him and stick him in a tiny dark box for a few hours.

There was no way that they were stupid enough to leave him in here permanently. In a couple hours one of them would open the lid, and he'd climb out, humiliated, terrified, and pale. They'd have their laugh, and he'd be allowed to go home. Fuck it all if he was gonna wait that long.

He tried calling for help first. No one came. Of course, this couldn't be easy. He was probably in some deep, dark, empty room in the Citadel where no one ever went, but he'd simultaneously be in huge trouble if anyone found him in it.

Okay. Okay. Okay-okay-okay. His breath wasn't even and deep anymore. It was coming in short ragged breaths, and Prompto knew that meant he was getting closer and closer to absolutely losing his shit. He was getting out of here, and he was getting out of here now. He slammed his hands against the hard surface above him. It hurt, and it was solid, but it also gave way.

Instead of popping off like a lid normally would, it collapsed around him, and something else fell in with it. The smell of dirt filled Prompto's nose, and a fresh wave of horror overtook him. They'd buried him alive.

Prompto had never thought they'd go to such lengths. They'd hazed him pretty hard. He remembered the argument Gladio and Ignis had had over it. Ignis had wanted to go straight to Cor, even though Prompto knew how that actually ended. Gladio, who had spent more time among recruits, knew how that ended, too, and had told Ignis to back down, to go about it in a different way. Prompto wasn't sure what they'd actually done. All he knew was that they'd stopped. It'd been weeks now, maybe even a month, since they'd done anything. Now this. This was way beyond hazing. When he got home (because he was going to get home, dammit), he was going to tell Ignis that in the morning he was going straight to Cor.

To get home, he had to get out of here. He had to calm his fucking brain, because he knew somewhere in his pea-brain he'd read the required reading. In the required reading, there was a section about being buried alive, which was probably where the other recruits had gotten the idea from. Joke's on them; he'd read it. He just had to remember. He did, bit by bit. First was that he had to cover his mouth so he didn't drown on fucking dirt. He quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, but not totally over his head. Like, he'd just bagged up his head. It was fine, right? He couldn't see, anyway.

Next. Head out of the coffin (casket?) first. Try to pack as much dirt into the coffin as possible so you have space to dig. Stop hyperventilating. The last bit was the hardest, to be perfectly honest. Getting his head out first was pretty easy, and once he'd done that, kicking and shoving as much dirt down into the coffin-casket was almost cathartic. Supposedly, according to the reading, since he was "nearly" six feet tall, if he could just stand up his head would breach the surface the of ground, and he wouldn't fucking die down here.

You would think that it would be harder to move through dirt, even loose dirt, but even through a haze of terror Prompto found it almost absurdly easy to climb up into what one might call a standing position. It took a little more digging, but then his head came up through the surface of the dirt and a little light filtered through his shirt. Fresh air hit his lungs, and Prompto almost cried right there. He waited, though. He was going to fucking wait until he got home to cry. Because he was going to cry.

There was going to be so much crying. Once he got home.

It felt sort of ironic that getting out of the probably-a-casket and getting his head through the dirt was easier than actually getting the rest of him out. He wasn't even panicking (that much) anymore, but it felt like forever before he was prying his left foot out of the literal grave and pulling his shirt back down over his chest. It was night time. The light he'd been seeing had been street lights and...industrial cemetery lights, because this was the cemetery. Fuck. No one would have ever found him in time.

He went through the pointless ritual of trying to brush himself off, and that was when he noticed what he was wearing. It was his Crownsguard uniform, but not the formal one. Not the one he'd actually wear when standing by doors trying to look professional. The personalized one. The one that marked him as a high ranking and important guard at events and outside the city. The one he wasn't actually supposed to own until he passed basic and proved himself good enough to be the third member of Noctis' retinue.

Noctis has given it to him a week into his training. He'd said that he wasn't accepting anybody else as his third, so don't fuck it up. Though he hadn't told anyone, the hazing had already started by that point. He remembered this uniform had given him the will to keep going. There were expectations. He couldn't fail. How, though? How had those assholes gotten their hands on his uniform?

If this thing was ruined, he was never going to forgive them. (He might not forgive them anyway.)

For the first time, he thought to check for his phone and wallet. No. Of course not. They'd probably taken them when they'd gotten him in these clothes. (He didn't want to think about that either.)

It was time to walk home.

His adrenaline must have been running super high, because even though there was a breeze out and the leaves were changing color, he didn't feel any chill whatsoever. It was a good thing. It meant that there was no further distraction from him trying to figure out where he was. Street signs and such didn't do much for him, but it wasn't long before he passed the statue that depicted The Rogue. That meant he was already in the right area.

He definitely took a couple of wrong turns here and there (he'd never been good with generals, he was good at point a to point b, and once he had a route, he stuck with it), but before someone called the police about a guy probably looking crazy and covered in dirt, he found himself at the building. Home. Well. A few flights of stairs and then home, but at least it was literally within sight now. He could breathe a little easier. Or so he thought. For the first time in a long time, the guard at the door tried to stop him.

"You can't be here."

Normally Prompto was pretty good about this. Normally Prompto laughed about it, explained who he was. Sometimes they even called Noctis, and that was a priceless fucking call, because their faces were always great at the moment they figured out they were wrong. Normally. Not today. Not after being locked in a casket and buried alive. Not after digging himself out, finding himself in a cemetery, and walking home. Nope. Not to-fucking-day.

"You must be new," he said coolly. "I live here."

He walked on. He heard the guard calling after him, by name, even - so he did fucking know who he was -, but he was already both mentally and physically gone. Up the stairwell. Up the flights of stairs. All the way up to the near tip-top where Ignis had moved...not all that long ago. It had been even less time since he'd moved all his things in. Really. He was just going to be happy to get these clothes off, in the wash, and to get in the shower. Maybe then he'd cool down a little.

Once he was in front of their door, he was presented with a new problem. How did he get in? He had a key, obviously, but if he didn't have his phone or wallet... He patted himself down furiously, hoping beyond hope that maybe the key was there, and somehow, miraculously, it was. It was in his vest pocket, and with trembling hands he pulled it out and stuck it in the keyhole...only to find that the door was open. What? Had he accidentally left the door unlocked this morning? It wasn't Ignis. Ignis would never leave the door unlocked if he wasn't inside.

"Hello?" he called into the apartment as he walked inside it. Prompto half expected a burglar to jump out or something, because that was apparently his luck today, but nothing of the sort happened. The only thing that greeted him was a fluffy cat. The first welcome truly sight Prompto had seen since he'd woken up. "Ms. Marbles!" He cooed happily, scooping their cat up into his arms. "Oh em gee, Ms. Marbles, when did you get so big?" If she minded the dirt she didn't show it, but boy did it feel good to hear a rumbling purr in his ear and feel softness under his fingers. Ignis would probably complain about the dirt in her white fur later. Just then, Prompto didn't care. He'd give her the bath himself, if it came to it. Right now. This was worth it.

He put her down for a moment so that he could get his shoes off and then scooped her back up again. His socks were pretty clean. At least comparatively. Ignis probably wouldn't kill him for tracking small bits of dirt through the house. He wasn't going to sit on anything, and in a few minutes, he'd shed the filthy uniform and hop in the shower. It'd be fine. For now, though, he paced around the apartment, bouncing the cat in his arms as she continued to purr.

There was something off about the apartment too, Prompto realized the more he paced. It was small things. A few things weren't where he remembered. There was a new pot and pan set in the kitchen, books on a shelf that were definitely Gladio's genre, a moogle plush next to his chocobo in his room. Little things, but enough things that there was definitely something wrong. It was like, or so he imagined, trying to get into the wrong car after grocery shopping. You're sure it's your car, but you don't have a basketball in the backseat. He's sure this is their apartment. Those are his clothes, that's their couch, this is their cat on his shoulder, but something's . . . off.

The front door opened and closed. A glance at the clock told him it was probably time for Ignis to be home. Maybe a hair early. Gladio would still be with Noctis on Wednesdays. "Hey, Iggy?!" he called.

There was a thud. "Pr-Prompto?!"

"Yeah?" Why did he sound so shocked? Of course, it would be him. "Did you and Gladio do some redecorating today?" He'd wait. He'd wait until Ignis saw him covered it dirt to explain the whole buried-alive-hazing thing. "I-D-K, it just seemed a little different here and there."

He put Ms. Marbles down at last and turned to examine the moogle. It seemed hand-stitched. Had someone made it for them? It was white, so he didn't really dare to touch it. He stood up straight again just as he became aware of both of Ignis' feet running across the floor (odd) and his silhouette appearing in his peripheral. "Yeah, I know. Don't even say it." He gave out a half laugh he didn't really mean. The emotion of waking up in that casket was starting to come back. "Just. You'll never guess--"

"Prompto."

He chuckled. Yep. We're getting close to the point of crying, because now he was gonna have to talk about it. Okay. Time to take the plunge and look at Ignis' face while he told him. Because Ignis liked it better when you looked at him while you almost cried. He turned his head to look at Ignis and tried to push words at the same time. "So I don't really--ohmigods!" His own story was quickly forgotten in the face of what he actually saw on Ignis' face. There was several scrapes, a few little cuts. The prize of them all was a bandage over his right eye. The left one was clearly bruised and irritated. "What--" he choked on his own word. "What happened?!"

He got no answer. Instead Ignis moved forward in an awkward cluster of limbs that was very unlike him. He stopped just before him, and Prompto's heart leapt up in his chest as Ignis fell to his knees as though he were in a temple of Shiva. Shaking hands grabbed at his wrists and held on tightly before, all at once, arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him so close that Prompto could feel his nose digging into his stomach. "I love you."

"I love you, too, but, uh, in case you haven't noticed, I'm covered in dirt. Literally." If anything, the arms clung even more tightly, and Prompto was fairly certain that if he went more off balance, he was going to fall. "You know I'm always down to cuddle, but let's wait until I've had a shower and you've told me what happened to your face." The answer to that was no, if the way those arms tightened even more was anything to go by. Okay. Now this was really weird.

He skipped over words this time and just tried to pull one arm off. If he could just get one off, he could wriggle out of the other, and then maybe...well, Prompto didn't know what then! But it had to be better than this. This was freaking him out.

He got one arm off his body, just a little, before it pulled back like a magnet to his body. "No!" Ignis said desperately, his entire body tense. "No . . . don't go."

"Iggy, I'm not going anywhere! Just." How could he be mad? Something had obviously happened. His face was all kinds of fucked up. He was obviously in emotional turmoil, but. "I'm sorry. If you tried to reach me earlier? My phone's gone."

Ignis gave a soft gasp and pulled back. For a moment, Prompto thought there was victory, but one arm remained attached to him while Ignis pulled out his own phone, unlocking it with one hand before he put it to his ear. "Gladio -- I -- You won't believe -- I can't --" Ignis looked up at him with a great shuddering breath. Tears were leaking out of his uncovered eye, and Prompto internally winced. It looked painful. "You have to come -- He's --"

He could hear Gladio's muffled voice saying something on the other end. He sounded upset. Maybe confused. Maybe as confused as Prompto. "You know what." He reached out and grabbed for the phone. "Gimme that." Ignis let it go easily, and then he leaned forward again, a little more gently this time but still holding onto him as tightly. He wasn't going anywhere.

"Gladio," he said as he put it to his ear. "Can you tell me what's going on? What happened to Ignis' face?! I'm, like, in the dark here!"

"Prompto?"

Ugh. Why was everyone acting like he was such a surprise?! "Yes?!"

There was a pause so long that Prompto almost thought he'd hung up. "I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere."

"I don't know where you think I'd go!" Too late. This time, Gladio really had hung up, and Prompto was left alone to deal with Ignis still clinging.

All he could hear was him softly saying "I love you" and "Please don't leave me." Over and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis.exe has stopped working.


	2. Sure Looked Strange to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If memory serves, today is Prompto's birthday. If that's correct, happy birthday, Prompto! If not, well, please still enjoy this chapter. <3

It should have been him.

That was a really typical survivors guilt kind of feeling, but in Gladio's case it was really true. The original setup for that charity ball had been him and Ignis arriving first to chat up people with Noctis arriving an hour or so later with Prompto as his personal guard. He was the younger Lord Amicitia, he had his silver tongue, and he had his personal tie to the Galahdian nation. It made sense for him and Ignis to soften people up before Noctis came in with his solid hits.

It had made sense, but Gladio had been born and raised to be Noctis' Shield. It wasn't that he didn't trust Prompto to do an excellent job. Whether Prompto wanted to admit it or not, he really had grown into the role of protector and loyal guardian well. He'd protect his prince with his life. He had no doubt about that, but Gladio's pride twitched a little at the arrangement, so he'd asked Prompto to switch with him.

With that smile and chipper attitude Gladio loved so much, Prompto had said yes. "Like I'm going to say no to more time with Ignis!" he'd joked at the time. They all knew that the truth was that as long as his assignment was with one of them, Prompto was happy. Well. Maybe not _happy_. Though he was a guard, he was expected to interact at these things, and Prompto hated that. He was no good at it, he said. Everyone hated him, he said. It wasn't true. Even the most Niff-hating of nobles tended to melt just a little under Prompto's babble and sunshine. It'd be fine, he told himself.

It was fine until he and Noctis were halfway there and the codes starting coming through on the radio. You knew it was bad when they didn't just rattle off one or two full codes but just started with a general code.

They started with Code: One. A Code: One was a mass attack. Shooting, bombing, hostage situation, the like. It was bad.

Gladio couldn't hear anything else in the car as he waited for the personal codes to come through.

The first one was Code: Omega - Orange. Gladio reached out and grabbed Noctis' knee before he could just literally jump out of the car. "There were several diplomats there, Noct. It doesn't necessarily mean Iggy." Two seconds later the next code came in, and Gladio tightened his grip on that knee. It was a Code: Beta - Black. "There were literally over a hundred people who qualified as Beta Codes. The chances of it being Prompto are slim." The chances of it being both of them were even slimmer. Gladio tried to comfort himself with those thoughts as the codes continued to roll in. Mostly Code: Beta and Omega - Yellows. See? It would be fine.

It wasn't fine.

The actual protocol was that the moment the Code: Omega came in, Gladio should have turned the car around and gone for a safe zone. That was protocol. No one, not even his own father, was going to blame him for not following it. There was no one who knew Noctis that would think he would willingly go to bunker down the moment there was even the possibility of two of his retainers being injured. There would be consequences later, but no one was going to blame him.

There might be more serious consequences if he let Noctis out of his sight. Unfortunately, the moment the car was parked at the scene, Noctis was up and gone. That left Gladio to gathering information. It didn't take much. It had been a bombing and that, aside from the codes given over the radio, was really all anyone knew for sure. An investigation would need to be done into where and who the bomb had come from. It would take a couple days. Noctis wasn't going to like hearing that. It meant more security detail, more eyes on everything he did.

He eventually found Noctis by one of the many many ambulances. He was crying. In public. That was not good. "Noct?"

"Gl--" He hiccuped. Actually fucking hiccuped. "It's Prom and Specs. It was them."

Omega - Orange. Injury, but not fatal. "Have they taken Iggy to the hospital?"

"Y-Yeah. He was out when I got here, but it's mostly his face. Eyes, they said." A head injury meant no curatives could be used. "We-we should head there next."

Beta - Black. Fatality. Prompto was dead, and Noctis didn't need to say it. If he was sobbing, then they had already tried a phoenix down. It already hadn't worked.

He didn't cry, but it felt like the sun had died. It felt like he would never know warmth and sunlight again.

Gladio probably wasn't okay to drive, but they drove to the hospital anyway, where Noctis nearly got into a fistfight with a doctor over semantics, and he was severely scolded for breaking protocol. "At least he's here now," Cor eventually said. "We're having this place checked out. He can stay with Scientia if he likes."

For the next eighteen hours, that's where Noctis was: in Ignis' room, by Ignis' bed. He ate, slept, and fiddled with his phone, but he didn't leave Ignis' bedside for more than a bathroom trip. Then Ignis woke up. The first words out of his mouth weren't about his lack of sight. They weren't about where he was. They weren't about what happened. They were "what happened to Prompto?" As though he knew that he wouldn't be alone, wherever he was. As though he knew whoever was there would know.

It was Noctis who answered. "He's dead, Specs. I. Tried. But it was too late."

Ignis let out a sound that Gladio could only call a death rattle, and then he didn't speak for two days. The next time he spoke, it was when the bandages were removed from the less damaged side of his face. The nurse had asked how his vision was in the eye.

"It's fine."

_No,_ Gladio thought. _Nothing is fine. Nothing is ever going to be fine again. This is the worst,_ he thought for the first but far from the last time. That moment was also the first time The Memory played in his head.

The Memory began in the way a lot of memories did. Gladio couldn't remember much very specifically about the day. It was a memory years old. He mostly just remembered the feeling. It had been a sucky day, just one of those days where nothing went right. Once it had been over, he'd gone over to Noctis' building, which was also (and more importantly at that moment) Ignis and Prompto's building.

The part he really remembered well, the part that began to play in his head, was opening their door and finding Prompto sitting on their couch watching T.V. What he was watching, he'd never know. It wasn't important. What was important was that the instant Prompto had seen him, he'd shut it off and got up. "Hey, Big Guy." Warm hands had reached up to touch his face as gently as his tone. "You look tired. Sad. You have a bad day?" He hadn't even waited for an answer. They both knew Prompto didn't need one. He instinctually knew. "You wanna go be little spoon?"

From anyone else that would something said with a sneer. Someone like Gladio wasn't a little spoon. Prompto's offer had been a serious one, and Gladio had nodded into Prompto's hands. "That sounds nice."

And that was where they'd ended up. Ignis would eventually find them there in bed, not really doing anything. That wasn't the important thing. No. The important thing was that after they'd arranged themselves, when Gladio was staring at the wall and thinking about how small Prompto's arms were around his waist and how warm his forehead was against the juncture of his neck and back, Prompto had spoken again. "You wanna talk about it?"

He'd thought about it. "Not really. Just one of those days."

"Hmm." Those tiny arms had tightened in comfort, just a little. "That's okay. Noct's still alive, right?"

Gladio had snorted. "It wasn't that kind of a bad day."

"Then it wasn't the worst day."

That was it. It was a memory that Gladio hadn't really ever thought about. It was folded in among so many other ones. Until that moment it hadn't been that important. Now, though. Now it was _the_ most important memory. From that moment on, it was the memory that followed him. Every time he thought about how bad it was or that this was the worst feeling, he swore The Memory came up like a wave in the back of his mind, or even worse, just subtly, he'd swear that he could feel Prompto's hand on his shoulder. _"No, no, this isn't the worst."_ Words whispered into his ear in his softest, gentlest voice. Then gone.

He wasn't even buried yet, and his ghost haunted him.

Ignis was finally released three days after the bombing. By that point, though there had been some effort to hide it - to stop the public from panicking over the idea of a bomber on the loose - the news that there had been a bomb was getting out. The news that Prompto had saved over a hundred people's lives was getting out.

"So that's what happened, huh?"

"Yes," Ignis said softly. All his words were soft. Soft with grief. Soft with pain. "We all know that he was a genius with machinery." Gladio almost smiled at that. It was true. There had been such a mystery over who had been fixing all their equipment when Prompto had been in basic. And there had been such whiplash when they'd realized it had been Prompto, just casually "making small adjustments." He'd never acknowledged it himself, but he had been a genius at it. Naturally, without training. "He saw it in one of the hidden cameras, or so I suspect. He screamed out. It must have been a remote detonation, for nearly the moment he did . . . "

"It went off."

" . . . Yes."

The funeral was the next day. Noctis had called Prompto's parents back to Insomnia to plan it, of course. There wasn't much that could make them drop their work and come back, but their son's death was definitely one of those things. Noctis had dealt with that side of it. They'd waited, Noctis told them, until Ignis had been released so that he could be there. They'd meant well, Gladio knew, but he was also fairly certain that it would have been a blessing to not have to see Prompto again.

Despite Prompto's new status as a hero, the funeral was small and quiet. His parents had planned it that way. Only the ones that really cared, they said. It was odd, how aside from Prompto's own parents, it was all people Gladio saw on almost a daily basis. Him, Ignis, Noctis, Cor, his father, Iris...the King came. No fanfare, so entourage, just him and a somber face. The casket was simple, and whoever had done the embalming on Prompto had done a good job. They'd put him in his Crownsguard uniform, not the formal one - that one had basically been destroyed in the explosion - , but the personal one. The one where Gladio knew that if he lifted an arm and turned him a little, he'd find a patch that said "It's a Beautiful Day Now Watch Some Bastard Fuck it Up."

Today that bastard was Prompto himself.

Ignis couldn't stay long. Gladio was honestly surprised he managed to make it through the ceremony itself. He was even more surprised he managed to talk gently to his parents. He couldn't go look at the body, though. Gladio gave him points for trying. He waited while Noctis spent too long at the casket, but in the end Gladio had gone up there alone.

"My apologies," Ignis had whispered when he'd returned, and Gladio's heart sunk.

"No. Don't apologize." He reached out - for the first time, he'd realize later - and pulled his living boyfriend into his arms. Ignis had gone willingly and had all but collapsed against him. He'd cried into his shoulder, though Gladio knew he'd probably later deny it.

It was supposed to get easier after a funeral, wasn't it?

It didn't.

Ignis was forbidden from returning to work until his other eye was accounted for one way or the other. That wasn't going to be for a few more days. In the meantime, Ignis was staying with him, or . . . them, at the Amicitia estate. They said he'd be fine on his own, but Ignis didn't want to go into their apartment yet. The one he'd shared with Prompto for years. Gladio couldn't blame him. Noctis didn't either, or so it seemed, since he'd volunteered to go up every day and take care of Ms. Marbles.

Gladio only went into the apartment once to get Ignis things. Ignis was right. Staying away for a little while would be better. There was simply too much of Prompto there.

Gladio kept trying to move forward. Just one step at a time. It hadn't even been a week, but the Citadel didn't stop. He had to keep up with training, and Noctis, and cadets. He got up in the morning, got dressed, did his tasks, and got through his day. He could tell that Ignis was trying to do the same, as much as he could away from work. It wasn't working. He came home to the estate at the end of the day, and Ignis was there. Ignis was dressed. He wasn't dressed well. He was known for his impeccably pressed shirts and his perfectly quaffed hair. Neither of those things were present when Gladio saw him now. His shirts were wrinkled, his hair unstyled. He was dressed, but that's as far as it went.

He wasn't coping, and Gladio didn't know how to help.

It was Saturday, a week later, when Noctis declared they were all going to the Sky Aquarium. When asked why the aquarium, Noctis had shrugged. "Specs is still recovering from that head trauma, right? The aquarium is quiet and distracting. Let's go."

Noctis hadn't really been coping well either. He'd always slept a lot, ever since the car crash when he'd been a child, but now he seemed to be sleeping even more. Getting him up before he wanted was nearly impossible, even with Ignis' tips on how to do it. One of his boyfriends was dead. The other was dead inside. His prince wasn't far behind. It was the worst.

_"No,"_ whispered Prompto's ghost in his ear. _"Noct's alive. Not the worst."_

They went to the aquarium.

Noctis wasn't completely wrong. There were moments, looking at all the fish and marine mammals, where he almost forgot the ache in his chest. It was quiet and distracting, and that was good for all of them. They spent a few good hours there, and Noctis even smiled, once or twice. It wasn't too late, though, when Ignis softly asked, "Could we go?"

"You okay, Specs?" The general answer was no, of course, but none of them said that. They all knew that Noct meant something else. Was there something else that had happened?

"I can feel a migraine coming on."

That was a good reason. "I'll call Jared and have him have make you some tea."

"No!" The word was said sharply. It hurt. The rejection. "No." This time more softly, with a hint of apology. "I. I want to go home."

"Are you sure?" It was too soon, Gladio thought. It had only been a few days. Could he handle it?

"Yes. I think it would be for the best if I slept in my own bed."

Gladio still thought it was too soon, but he had a phone, and if Ignis changed his mind, he'd call.

He'd barely parked his car at the estate when Ignis called. He was ready to turn this fucking car back on and go back, no questions asked, even moreso when on the other end Ignis only seemed to babble. He tried to get a few words in, just to make sure he wasn't hurt, but then someone else spoke into the phone.

"Gladio."

He almost dropped the phone. That was Prompto's voice.

"Can you tell me what's going on? What happened to Ignis' face?! I'm, like, in the dark here!"

"Prompto?!" It sounded stupid to ask. That was definitely Prompto's voice, and yet, it couldn't be. Prompto was dead.

"Yes?!" He sounded so upset. Did he truly not know?

"I'm on my way. Don't go anywhere." He hung up. He'd realize later he should have waited to hear the response, but his mind was on so many other things just then.

He'd never remember the drive back to the building. He'd never remember the run up the stairs. He'd never remember any of that. All he'd ever remember was getting there and seeing and a dirty but otherwise perfectly healthy-looking Prompto Argentum leaning against the wall of his largely unused room with Ignis clinging to him for dear life. Gladio couldn't blame him. After all, the very first thing he himself did was wrap Prompto in his arms.

Prompto made some very disgruntled noises. Gladio didn't give a shit. He was there. He was solid. He was breathing.

Nothing else mattered.

Prompto punched him in the side. Gladio laughed. This was only proof that it really was Prompto and not some impostor. How many times had Prompto punched him, never quite hard enough to hurt, when he got frustrated and mad? Too many to count. It had always made Gladio laugh with amusement, but today it made him laugh with joy.

He was punched again, a little harder this time, and Gladio drew back. "Okay, okay. What is it?"

"What's going on?!" He gestured down at Ignis, who was visibly trembling. "His face is fucked up, I woke up in a casket, no one will tell me anything, and you're both acting like you've seen a ghost! It's only been like ten hours!"

Uh. Ten. Hours? "What's the last thing you remember?" He paused. "Before waking up in the casket."

"I-D-K. Like. Breakfast? You spent the night. It's Wednesday, and that's your day with Noctis, so it made sense for you to stay."

Wednesdays hadn't been his training day with Noctis in two years. It was also Saturday. "And you woke up in a casket."

"Yes! Woke up in a casket. My stupid. Fellow. Ugh!" Prompto pawed at his eyes with dirty hands that only made him seem dirtier. "The other cadets. They must have found out I was claustrophobic, okay. I'm sorry! If you couldn't get a hold of me. They took my phone and wallet, too."

The other cadets . . . "How old are you?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?!" Gladio shrugged. He waited. Prompto would answer eventually. And he did. "I'm nineteen!"

"You're twenty-three," came Ignis' muffled, soft voice from Prompto's hip area. "You haven't been a cadet in four years. You're a lieutenant now."

"What? No. No way. What. I . . . How. How would I forget all that? I wouldn't. I wouldn't forget--"

"Prompto." Gladio took his hands. "Last week, there was an explosion. You and Iggy were in it. Ignis got his face . . . and you . . . "

He saw Prompto's eyes widen as what he was saying started to sink in. "No. No. That. That can't be."

"You died. There was a funeral."

"No. No way. Nope." He was freaking out. Gladio couldn't blame him, but that wasn't a good sign. "I'm standing right here! I obviously didn't die!"

Did he tell Prompto that he'd been full on embalmed? No. That would probably make it worse. "I'm so happy to see you standing right there. I can't tell you how happy it makes me. Iggy, too, obviously. But you were dead. Noctis couldn't even revive you with a phoenix down."

There was a sound, as high pitched and devastating as a dog's whimper, and Gladio had the good sense of mind to reach out and catch Prompto before his knees gave way, and he got them all hurt. Ignis also whimpered in pain, and Gladio internally sighed. It was time to settle this all down before someone died. Again. "All right. You're getting a bath." Prompto didn't answer, but that wasn't an argument, so Gladio moved on. "And you're going to bed."

"I am not letting Prompto out of my sight." Those were damn bold words for someone who couldn't speak above a whisper.

"Nope. Bedtime, Iggy." It wasn't as easy as he probably made it look, but he pried Ignis off of Prompto, who then all but fell on his ass. "Come on, Prom. Up."

A great shuddering breath. " . . . Kay."

He wanted to put an arm over Prompto's shoulders, to comfort him and tell him it was all right. He was alive and there and no one cared how all that much. He couldn't. He already had his arms full of Ignis, and despite the migraine, Ignis was trying to struggle. "Look, will you settle the fuck down if I let you watch him get in the tub?"

" . . . Yes." Gladio wasn't really sure that was true, but he was going to take it for now.

Getting Prompto in the tub was fairly easy. They all usually showered, but now Prompto was trembling as much as Ignis, and, well, Gladio didn't trust him to stand. Clothes were removed, and Gladio watched him reveal his skin carefully. Normally, he thought dully, he was looking because he liked what he saw and wanted to get his hands on it later. Right now, he was looking to see if wounds remained, or if there was some mark that hadn't been there before that would maybe give away what had happened.

There was nothing.

Once Prompto was in a tub of hot water, he turned back to Ignis. "Bedtime."

"Yes, all right. One moment." Ignis got up from his perch. So ginger were his movements. He was in so much pain. Bed was for the best. With a still trembling hand, he reached out and brushed his fingers against Prompto's cheek. "You'll be all right?"

Hastily Prompto nodded. "I feel okay. You know. Physically."

"Come to bed when you're done."

Gladio's heart broke. How many times had he heard Ignis say that to Prompto? Hundreds. Always with love. This time was no different.

"Okay."

Ignis left the bathroom then, and Gladio wasn't far behind.

Ignis didn't fight him now about getting into bed. He changed clothes, threw the old ones into the hamper (Prompto's uniform was set aside for deeper cleaning), and then crawled into bed. "Will he really still be here in the morning? Or have I fallen off the deep end, so to speak?"

"I'll make sure he's here. If he's not, then we're both insane."

"I suppose I can deal with that."

Nothing was said after that. It wasn't long before Ignis was asleep. Gladio waited for Prompto to emerge from the bathroom. He waited and waited and waited. Prompto didn't come. He began to get worried. What if he wasn't in there? What if they really had imagined it? What if he was in there, but he died again? Eventually the anxiety became too much, and Gladio went to check.

Prompto was still in there, eyes open, but it seemed as though he hadn't even moved a muscle since he'd gotten in. Lost in his mind, Gladio realized. He would be, too, if he'd just been told he'd been dead for a week. "You okay?" The answer was no. The answer was always no when you asked that question. You asked the question anyway.

"I shouldn't have come back."

That wasn't what Gladio had been expecting to hear. As such, it pierced him right through the heart. He could feel the pain blossoming like blood. He held it back. "Don't say that to Iggy."

"It's not natural."

"Fuck natural." Prompto looked up at him. His face was still filthy, but Gladio could see the telltale streaks through the grime that told him there were tears. "You're here. Who cares why? This week. This whole week has been torture without you. For all of us! Don't say you shouldn't be here."

After all, it should have been him.

He washed Prompto. He was as gentle as he could be about it, but Prompto flinched a lot. That hurt too, but Gladio didn't really think that was about him. Everything for Prompto was just raw right now. Some of it would heal with some sleep. He washed him, revealing pale skin and freckles and blond hair. The Prompto he knew. Once the last of the dirt was down the drain, they got him out, and Gladio helped to dry him off, too. He smiled at the way his hair stuck to the towel as he ruffled his head with it. He leaned forward and kissed him. Warm. He was so . . . warm. Almost too warm. He didn't care. Warm was alive.

"Let's get you to bed."

"Maybe I--"

Nope. No. Not letting him go down that road, because he knew where that road was going. He knew. "Iggy said come to bed. You wanna disappoint Iggy?"

"No."

He seemed stable enough to get dressed in his softest bed clothes, and then Gladio pulled him by the hand out to the bedroom where he personally pulled back the blankets and watched Prompto crawl underneath. Even in his sleep, Ignis reached out for him, arms pulling him closer the moment they grasped him. Bright blue eyes looked back at Gladio beseechingly, but Gladio only shrugged. What was he gonna do?

"Go to sleep, Baby."

He was pretty sure he heard Prompto huff, but he got no more argument than that. Once he was sure that Prompto had settled, he left the room briefly to grab an ice pack from the freezer. Ignis would probably need it before morning. With it on the bedside table, Gladio settled in at the end of the bed, watching his lovers sleep.

He would remain exactly there nearly until morning light.


	3. Just Like You Were a Miser

It had started off as a good night.

For all that Prompto hated them, Ignis loved having Prompto at events. Prompto had a charm to him that softened even the most stubborn of nobles and a calming aura that made the night go by faster. There was also the dancing. Prompto hated that perhaps most of all, but Ignis loved it. He loved any excuse to pull Prompto close and to wind across the dance-floor with him.

Having Gladio in tow an hour or so later would not be bad either. Then they could both admire Prompto in the uniform. He wore the formal one so rarely, but he looked so good in it. One look at Prompto in it had been enough for Ignis to know that the night would end with both of them pulling Prompto out of it, and that for Prompto, that would be his favorite part of the night. The after in bed, anyone else long forgotten.

That would have been several hours away yet when it all fell apart in an instant.

Something had caught Prompto's eye. It wasn't unusual. People talked about his charisma and smile, but no one talked about how curious and intelligent Prompto Argentum was, how beautiful he was when something piqued his interest and he followed a stray thought, sometimes for hours. It was much the same with Gladio. They all talked about how strong he was and what a tall drink of water he was, but no one talked about his love of history and books. Among them intelligence was apparently his boon alone, if you asked the public.

What a loss for them. It was a joy to be his gain.

"What's stolen your eye?" He had to call the words from several paces away as he left a conversation with Lord and Lady Sericis. It was perhaps those several paces that would save his life. Over the next week, he would often wish it hadn't.

He got a first row seat to the horror that dawned on his beloved's face. A first row seat to the way he spun his head around, mouth open as wide as possible as he screamed: "There's a bomb! Run! Now!" Everyone fled into chaos, all the training that Ignis knew they all had out the window. Prompto collided with his front, knocking him down just as the explosion came.

After, there was pain in his eyes, and he could not hear, but still his first thoughts after went to Prompto. Prompto was dying. There was no denying it. He could barely see, but even damaged eyes could see the blood bubbling up in his throat as he turned Prompto over. He could see the way his chest heaved, his eyes looking up, yet not really seeing anything. He took his hand, and tried to beg him to live just long enough. Noctis would come. Noctis would have the phoenix down he was supposed to carry everywhere. If he could just hold on, then it would be fine.

He blacked out before he knew the answer.

When he awoke later (it was much much later), he asked. It was still the first thing on his mind. How and where was Prompto?

It was Noctis who answered him. He was dead. Gone. Forever.

He did not speak for two days. How could he speak when Prompto was gone? How could he go on without him? The answer was that he had to, of course. He had to go on. The world did not stop because Prompto was gone. It did not stop even because he had only so far recovered sight in one eye. It went on. It kept spinning, and the only choices were to also keep spinning or to stop and die. Alone, in moments of weakness, he thought about taking the latter option, but Prompto had given his life for him. He would not let it be in vain.

The funeral was held a day after he was released from hospital. His parents had been kind to put it off until that point. For all that he had tried to hate them at first, he loved them. Prompto's mother was a tiny woman but full of spirit. She and Uncle Ventus got along almost scarily well, and as almost a mirror point, his father trailed along behind her much as Uncle Tellus seemed to trail behind Ventus. Of course, they had decided to wait. As kind as it had been of them, he very much wished they hadn't. Even with one good eye, he did not wish to sit in at Prompto's funeral.

There weren't a lot of people there, and that made it a little bit better. His uncles, Gladio's father and sister, Noctis, the King...all together they really made for quite a mismatched group, but Ignis got the message. Only people who had been close to Prompto, truly close, had been invited. It was a good gesture and a good farewell.

It wasn't until they were all going to sit down for the ceremony that Ignis noticed one last guest among them. It was a dog, pure white and familiar. Ignis felt his heart sink a little further. Pryna. Pryna had come to say goodbye as well, or...what had Prompto told him he'd named the puppy? Chibi. A cute name from a cute child.

In the end, he hadn't been able to go up and say goodbye. Noctis had spent whole minutes up there, and he'd spent the time trying to pull enough of himself together to go. But when Noctis and left, it had all crumbled away and instead Gladio had to go alone. Of course, he had. Gladio was so much stronger than he was. He shouldn't have to be. Not in this. They should have gone together. Faced it together. But here he was, waiting while Gladio carried the burden.

He apologized for it when Gladio returned. He apologized for not being strong enough. Gladio told him no. Gladio offered him solace. He didn't deserve it, but he was too weak to resist.

Though going back to their apartment had been an option, he had declined to do so. He was fairly certain that Gladio was happy for the opportunity to have him at the estate, to have people around to keep an eye on him. It wasn't about that for Ignis. He was physically functioning fairly well for someone who had supposedly been through major head trauma. For Ignis, it was much more that the very idea of stepping into that apartment where he and Prompto had lived for five years made his stomach turn. Though he knew he could have turned to his uncles for a place to stay, he was grateful that Gladio and his family had offered. He was even grateful to Noctis, who promised that Ms. Marbles would be spoiled even more rotten by the time he was able to face it.

The truth was that he'd probably move. It would be within the same building - again, but still a move. He wasn't sure what they'd do with Prompto's things. They belonged to his parents now, technically, but they had left it to them. "What are we going to do with it?" his mother had asked after the funeral. "Set aside a couple keepsakes for us, and do what you will with the rest of it. These things should fall to spouses anyway."

Spouses. They hadn't been married. None of them had. They couldn't, not just from the polyamourous point of view, but from the fact they were a same sex arrangement. Before this, Noctis had been more upset about it than they had. They were married in all but name, after all. They lived together, they slept together, they had their <strike>child</strike> cat together. He'd grown up with uncles in the same arrangement, and he'd never seen the problem until now. Prompto had been married to neither of them when he'd died, yet his mother had still acknowledged them as spouses.

He spent an entire morning after Gladio had left for work crying over just that - a title they hadn't had. It was pathetic, but he couldn't stop.

He envied Gladio, a little, nothing terrible, but simply that Gladio was allowed back to work. Gladio was allowed to drown himself in it. Ignis was not going to be allowed back to work until these blasted bandages were off his eye. There was nothing to drown himself in here except for books that gave him a headache and television.

Watching nonsensical television was where Iris found him on Thursday. "Hey, Ignis, how are you feeling?"

He muted the television, happy for a break from watching grown women scream at each other. "Fine, thank you." That was the obligatory answer. He wasn't really allowed to say that he wanted to climb to the top of the Citadel and jump off or cry until he died of the dehydration. He was pretty sure it showed in his appearance anyway. This shirt hadn't been ironed. He didn't care. His hair hadn't seen gel in days. He doubly did not care. "Is there something you needed, Iris?" He knew the answer was no. None of them were going to ask anything of him. He wished they would.

"I. Uh." She paused, biting her lip and fiddling with the edge of her skirt. At the age of eighteen she had never outgrown her cute style, which mixed with the inner fighter she was already growing into. By this point, Iris was as good as his own sister, and the thought of the woman she was slowly becoming made him smile with fondness and pride. He leaned back a little, patiently waiting for her to gather the strength to ask her question. He could give her that much. "Are you and Gladdy gonna break up?"

That question caught him off guard. "No!" he said quickly. "What ever has made you think that?!" He tried to think. Had they been fighting? No, only grieving. They'd both seemed to have skipped past the stage of anger right into depression. They weren't sleeping in separate rooms . . . "Have we done something to make you think that we don't care for each other anymore?" It wasn't true. He still loved Gladio as ardently. There was just the grief mixed in.

"It's just . . ." She took in a deep breath. "I hear a lot of relationships don't survive the death of a child. I know!" she added quickly. "That's not what Prompto was, but like. He was as important as a child to your relationship. Maybe more."

At least, Ignis supposed, she had some idea of how much they'd cared for Prompto. Many people didn't. "Well," he said seriously, "I don't plan on leaving Gladio any time soon, but I'll talk to him later and make sure he feels the same way. All right?"

"...Okay."

He had her leave him soon after that. A migraine had decided it wanted quality time. They said it was a symptom of his concussion. Ignis wasn't so sure it wasn't more to do with his grief.

By the time Gladio returned that night, the migraine had mostly faded, and he was able to get up out of bed to greet him. Gladio smiled. He was much better at smiling with some form of authenticity, but then, he always had been. "I heard you spent most of your day sleeping." A hand cupped his cheek, and Ignis allowed himself to feel the affection in the motion.

"More like I spent most of the day trying to fight off a migraine." The hand flinched and began to pull away. Ignis caught it with his hand and pressed it back. "It's all right. I'm not feeling oversensitive anymore."

Gladio's thumb stroked his cheekbone, and it quieted something inside him, just for a moment. "As long as you're sure."

He nodded. "I had a talk with Iris today."

"Did you?" There was a chuckle Ignis knew meant that Gladio knew Iris talked to everyone every day when she could. He also knew Gladio knew that if he were bringing it up, it wasn't a normal conversation. "Why don't we go sit?"

They did. They ended up back in bed, just sitting. It was easily the most private room in the house for them, despite it being such a large estate. "So, what did Iris have to say?"

"She asked, quite seriously, if we were going to break up." Beside him Gladio stilled. Ignis pushed on. "I told her no. I also told her I'd check with you to make sure you felt the same way."

"I do," Gladio said at once. "I love you. That doesn't change because Prompto's gone." He paused, and the space of silence radiated sadness. "I can't lose you, too."

"Then our emotions mirror one another." It took a great deal more energy than Ignis cared to admit to reach out and take Gladio's hand in his. "I love you too, Dearest. I could not stand to lose you now." His petname for Gladio, so rarely said, had the same effect on Gladio now that it always had. A smile nearly split Gladio's face in two, and he was soundly kissed before Gladio dragged him back into bed for cuddling.

It was nice to see that something had not changed, even just something small. Maybe things would yet be all right.

The feeling was unfortunately gone by morning.

Noctis decided they were going to the aquarium on Saturday. He didn't want to go, but what was he going to say? _"No, Highness, I'm not going to the aquarium. I'd much rather lounge around by boyfriend's estate watching television I loathe and feel sorry for myself"?_ No, of course not. In another time, in another state of mind, he'd feel quite proud of Noctis. He hadn't seen him since the funeral, but he'd heard that Noctis had been sleeping even more than usual. They blamed it on grief, of course. Just because Prompto's bond with Noctis had been platonic did not mean that it was not as strong. Sometimes, Ignis thought, Prompto's bond with the prince had been the strongest of all. Of course, Noctis was grieving. He was grieving hard.

He should be proud. Today Noctis, without any known prompting, had gotten up, put his grief aside, and tried to take a step forward. Like the leader he would be someday, he tried to take them with him. It was small, but it was certainly more than the example Ignis himself was setting. Perhaps his prince was even correct. Perhaps a day out in a quiet yet distracting setting would do them all some good. Yes. He would go. He'd put his best foot forward, even if that foot was shod in something that hadn't been shined in a week. It was better than no foot at all.

It wasn't a bad way to spend a day. Noctis wasn't wrong. The aquarium was quiet, and no matter many times they'd visited in the past, it was always interesting. Seeing Noctis' face light up at the sight of different fish wasn't a bad thing, either. It wasn't a bad day. It was perhaps even the best day they'd all had since the incident. Yet. "Could we go?" He felt terrible for saying it so abruptly, but he'd been ignoring the niggling feeling for hours. When the bright aura had passed before his eyes, he'd known it was no longer avoidable. A migraine was steamrolling it's way in, and he needed to be out of the public eye when it hit.

He knew he'd ruined the mood, but he was grateful that they did not get angry at him for it. They'd only treated him with gentle concern, even when he said he wanted to return to the apartment. Gladio was likely right. It was likely too soon, yet nothing at all could discourage him from the overwhelming emotion of just wanting to go home. Gladio's place was nice, and they welcomed him with open arms, but it wasn't home.

He missed their bed. He missed their cat. It would be painful to face, but he already had the migraine coming in. This much he could weather alone and then talk to Gladio about in the morning when he stopped crying, for he would most certainly cry.

Gladio argued it only far enough that Ignis saw the way his face gave up the fight, and he reminded him that he had a phone, should he need to call. Of course. He wouldn't forget. He still had a loving and living boyfriend. He could not allow himself to get completely lost in the dead one.

The sounds were, without a doubt, the worst part of a migraine. The ding of the elevator as it reached his floor, the sounds of his own feet against the floor, the slide of the key into the lock. They all grated against him. Just a little more, he kept telling himself. A little more, and then he could get into bed. A little more, and he could try to sleep to the sound of silence (and silence was definitely a sound when you had a migraine).

He was trying not to think about the way shoe laces sounded when you untied them when a different sound reached him from deeper within the apartment.

"Hey, Iggy?!"

He dropped the shoe. It landed with a thud that truly made his stomach tumble inside of him, but it didn't matter. What he'd heard. It couldn't be.

"Pr-Prompto?!"

"Yeah?" came the distant, muffled voice. It was a question, as though to say 'why wouldn't it be him?' Why? Because it was impossible. "Did you and Gladio do some redecorating today? I-D-K, it just seems a little different here and there."

He ran. The sound vibrations made his head pound with every step, but he ran. If he didn't run fast enough, he'd miss it. If he ran fast enough, maybe it'd be real and not his brain messing with him. A ghost. All he was hearing was a ghost his brain made, he was sure, but maybe. Even if it wasn't real, maybe if he ran, he'd see the ghost, too. For a moment, he could pretend.

He'd take _anything_.

He found the ghost in Prompto's room. The one he'd never really done much of anything with except put plushes, clothes, and other miscellaneous items that didn't fit in the rest of the apartment. He was filthy. _Of course, he was,_ his brain supplied, _he'd have to literally crawl out of the grave to get here._

"Yeah, I know. Don't even say it." Prompto laughed, as though anything about this were funny. "Just, you'll never guess--"

"Prompto." If he reacted to his call, maybe it was real. He so desperately wanted it to be real.

It took a second while he still tried to talk, "So I don't really--" but he did. He looked at him. He almost collapsed right there. Prompto talked while he tried to regain control of his legs. "Ohmigods! What--! What happened?!"

He couldn't even be bothered to answer, overwhelmed by the question of whether or not he was solid. He was, he found, as his legs finally gave way before him. He was solid. He was real. He clung, his entire being taken over by emotion and migraine. "I love you," he said into Prompto's belly.

"I love you too, but, uh, in case you haven't noticed, I'm covered in dirt. Literally." He'd noticed. He even smelled like dirt. It hurt. It didn't matter. He smelled of something. He was warm. It hurt. He was alive. "You know I'm always down to cuddle, but let's wait until I've had a shower and you've told me what happened to your face." No. No. If he let go, it might end. He might disappear like a dream. He couldn't let this be a dream. He held on. He held on like the world depended on it. He had to stay. He had to stay.

Prompto made a feeble attempt to remove him. It hurt. It all hurt, really, but the idea of letting go hurt so much more. He couldn't give in. He pulled his arm back. "No!" If he let go, he'd leave. "No . . . Don't go." He hated how desperate it sounded. He hated it, but he could not really be bothered to care. If desperate kept Prompto here, he'd be desperate forever.

"Iggy, I'm not going anywhere. Just." He paused. He was thinking. Oh god, if he was thinking he was real. He was real. He was real. He still wasn't letting go. "I'm sorry. If you tried to reach me earlier? My phone's gone."

Phone. Gladio had said to call if he needed anything. Oh. He so needed Gladio to be here. Right. Now. He let go, only enough so that he could get out his phone and call. The words wouldn't come, even after Gladio picked up. He tried, but his brain and mouth weren't connecting properly. It was almost a relief when Prompto took the phone away from him. Gladio would come running, too, if he heard that voice.

He did, and slowly, Ignis calmed down a little. It wasn't just him. Gladio could see and feel him, too. Ignis was still extremely reluctant to let him go, let alone let him out of his sight, but Gladio insisted. It was bedtime. He wanted to fight tooth and nail until the bitter end, but Gladio's presence was calming, and his migraine was already getting the better of him. It was better for everyone, including the hopefully-not-a-ghost-at-all Prompto.

Watching Prompto get into the bath was like watching a newborn spiracorn walk for the first time. It was nearly heartbreaking. It took all the willpower he had to simply walk over and tell him to come to bed. Yes. Please. Come to bed. Like you always did before. He didn't want to wake up and find this had never happened. He glanced back at Gladio.

Neither of them wanted that.

"Will he really still be here in the morning? Or have I fallen off the deep end, so to speak?" he asked once he was in bed. He didn't really want to ask, but he felt the need to. This was supposed to be impossible, wasn't it? Was Gladio just indulging him?

Apparently not. "I'll make sure he's here. If he's not, then we're both insane."

"I suppose I can deal with that." He would have to, and if they were both insane, well, at least they were together. He had reached a time in his life where he didn't much want to be alone for very long most of the time.

He wasn't sure precisely when sleep claimed him, but he knew he'd fallen asleep at some point, for the next thing he was aware of was that Prompto was in his arms, and the only thing that made that feel abnormal was the pounding of his head. He was loath to release Prompto, but he should get up, get an ice pack for his head, maybe take some medicine, and then come back.

He made to get up when Gladio's whisper stopped him. "I've got you covered, Iggy." It was almost absurd how easily he fell back into place. Had he really come so far as to rely on others so much? Something very cold was set into his outstretched hand, and he placed it against the side of his head. "Do you want some medicine?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." Gladio's weight at the end of the bed shifted and then vanished. When it returned, he was given two pills and a glass of water to drink. "Come to bed. It must be absurdly late."

"More like absurdly early by this point." The sound he made at that comment properly portrayed how disgusted that made him feel. He'd pulled all nighter's before, but not like this. Not sitting at the edge of a bed doing nothing. Not even in his worst bouts of insomnia had it been like that. He'd just do something. "I'm making sure he doesn't disappear the moment we're not looking."

Ignis sighed. A fair cause. He worried for it too, and yet. "As sweet as that is, he's deeply asleep, Dearest. I think you can risk a couple hours." It wasn't going to be any good for any of them if Gladio was dead on his feet. His mind was a little clearer now, and Prompto was very solid and warm next to him. For whatever reason, he was alive and here.

Six above, he was never going to let him go again.

"If you get in on his other side, one of us will certainly know if he gets up."

"You're not going to give it up, are you?"

"No. I'm not."

Gladio made a soft tsking noise, but the weight at the end of the bed disappeared again, and Ignis watched as Gladio carefully pulled back the covers and slid underneath. Fingers slid between his own and squeezed. Ignis squeezed back. "Go back to sleep, Iggy."

"Get some sleep, Dearest." His hand was squeezed more tightly in response to his second use of the petname in one conversation, and Ignis allowed himself a smile. He had his Dearest and his Darling in bed, and for him that meant all was right with the world.

The next time he was awake, there was sunlight coming through a crack in the curtains. He turned over, blissfully headache free, and looked at the clock. 8:32. He never slept in this late. Thank goodness it was Sunday, and Gladio didn't have to be anywhere.

He was warm, comfortable, and didn't really want to get up, but he did anyway. For the first time in a week, he had a purpose. He had two people to feed, and he wasn't going to pass the opportunity up. He dressed quickly and found that running a comb through his hair did feel more sensitive than it should, but it was fine. Prompto was alive and asleep in bed. They could take off this other bandage and find that he was blind underneath and the world would still be fine.

He had berries in the fridge. He'd forgotten about those. He was lucky that there were only a few bad ones that he had to throw out. The rest went into muffins. Muffins were a relatively quiet thing to make that didn't grate on the headache he didn't currently have and didn't want to come back. That aside, the smell of something baking was likely as not to lure at least Prompto out of bed, though he wouldn't object to it if Gladio remained asleep for a few more hours.

The first batch was out of the oven when he heard Prompto shuffle off toward the bathroom. When the door clicked shut, Ignis grabbed a muffin not quite hot enough to burn his fingers and split it open to butter it. By the time Prompto emerged again, there were three, all on a plate, all waiting for Prompto at the table. "How are you feeling, Darling?"

Prompto made a grumbling sound. "Like I slept for twelve hours and that was a mistake."

Ignis allowed himself a smile and ran one hand up and down Prompto's arm as he sat down. "I'm sure you were exhausted." They'd never really gotten around to talking about it, but Ignis was almost certain that Prompto truly had dug himself out of his own grave to get here. It wouldn't have been easy, emotionally or physically, and that was before he'd apparently realized that he'd really been dead.

He slunk himself down in the chair closest to Prompto with a muffin of his own and a cup of coffee. "Do you still only remember as far as nineteen?"

"I dunno," Prompto mumbled, biting into a muffin. "I feel like I remember bits and pieces more now. Stuff that doesn't fit in with being nineteen, but not, like, a clear line of events or anything."

That was encouraging, actually. It meant most of his memories would probably return with time. The loss was probably an effect of...waking up(?) His internal computer was probably still rebooting, so to speak. "Do you remember the explosion?"

"No." Good. May he never.

It was nearly ten when Gladio woke. They only knew he'd woken up, because there was a sound of distress from their bedroom. "He's in here!" Ignis immediately called out. There was no verbal response, but in his mind's eye Ignis could clearly see Gladio sinking back into the pillow with furious relief.

Four muffins, a shower, and a change of clothes on both Gladio and Prompto's part later, Ignis had a thought he should have had hours ago. "We should tell Noctis."

"He might be awake by now," Gladio grouched without any bite behind it.

"I'll text him." Ignis practically already had his phone out to do it. It was nice to have even small things to do again. Texting his prince almost felt like a return to normalcy.

**Ignis, 10:57 a.m.** : _Come up to the apartment when you can._

Ignis turned off his phone and set it aside, not expecting a response for some time. It was naturally a surprise when his phone then immediately lit up with a reply.

**Noctis, 10:57 a.m.** : _Why?_

The mug was sat down on the table with a clack, and he typed through about three replies before he realized that none of them were any good and instead replied with a non-answer.

**Ignis, 10:59 a.m.** : _It might be better for you to see for yourself._

Again, the response was nearly instantaneous.

**Noctis, 11:00 a.m.** : _omw_

They didn't have to wait long for the knock at the door, which Gladio answered. "Don't freak out," Gladio was telling him as they walked into the dining room. Noctis stopped short when he saw Prompto sitting at the table.

"Prompto?"

"That's my name," Prompto said, clearly feeling awkward. "Don't wear it out."

Ignis wasn't sure what he'd expected Noctis to truly do at this juncture. Cry? Stand dumbfounded? Need to sit down? All perfectly acceptable options that perhaps would not have surprised Ignis. What he had not expected was for Noctis' face to light up like a child one Crystallo Nox morning, cry "It worked! I can't believe it! It worked!", and fling himself over Prompto's shoulders to cling in an ecstatic hug.

Overcome with suspicion, Ignis again put down his coffee mug. "What worked, Noct?"

"The pinion," he thought he heard Noctis mumble into Prompto's shoulder.

Pinion. No. Oh no. Please tell him he hadn't heard that correctly. "Are you," he began, after having to pull in a breath, "trying to tell me that you went out and made a phoenix pinion?"

"No," Noctis said, and despite the very nearly malicious grin on his face, Ignis allowed himself to be relieved for a second.

That relief was only to last for a _second_.

"I made five."


	4. Don't Get Caught Alone

It was, without a doubt, the worst night of Noctis' life.

He'd endured some terrible and painful ones as a child, so when he pegged this one top of the list, he meant it. The worst part was that he'd been looking forward to it. Did he, in any way, enjoy charity balls? No. He hated them. He thought the money that went into throwing them ought to be thrown at the cause itself, and then they could just be done with it. (There was actually a trend in events where you sent out invitations to people, asking them to donate to the cause of them not having the event and not making them get dressed up and socialize. It was apparently very popular and successful in slightly lower circles. Man. When Noctis was king, he was going to throw a fuckton of those.) What Noctis looked forward to was spending time with his friends. Noctis knew he was a lucky man. There were four people in his life that he loved above all else, and he got to spend day in and day out with three of them. Those three would be at this event. He'd tell the fourth about it in an email.

Any event, no matter how he might usually avoid it, was fun when you threw Prompto into it. Ignis and Gladio could be trusted to uphold the highest standards of decorum, but when you added Prompto into the mix, everything relaxed a little. According to this father, when you threw Prompto at stuffy nobles and let him be an ornament on Gladio or Ignis' arm, charitable donations went up by about 16%. So, he'd been looking forward to seeing it all: Prompto attempting to waltz again with Ignis, him charming the pants off assholes, and at one point or another, pulling Prompto away so they could both ditch for a half an hour and cool down from the acute illness of "too-many-people-at-once-itis." He'd thought maybe Ignis would even join them, depending on how far into the event they got before the itch overtook him. Ignis, after all, liked these things far less than he let on. It was only Gladio who _really_ liked them. Damn people person.

Everything had been blown to hell when the codes had started coming in on the radio. He'd really tried very hard to believe it when Gladio said that the most severe codes were probably not Ignis and Prompto, but in his gut, Noctis knew. It was too much of a coincidence. They would have been together, and because they were his people, they were always at the center of things. Gladio tried to be optimistic, tried to use statistics to say it probably wasn't. Noctis knew better and hated that he was proven right when they arrived at the event.

He'd skipped over looking for Ignis at first. Ignis was a Code: Orange - injured, but not fatally. He'd searched for Prompto. There was a very limited amount of time during which you could bring someone back with a phoenix down. That was why he was required to carry one. It had to be used like . . . well, like anyone could be brought back on a hospital table. You had about ten minutes before it was definite and for sure that someone could not be revived. He was pretty sure it had been about that long since they'd even gotten the Code: Black in the car. It would have been better if they'd gotten a Code: Red and it had changed a few minutes later. He knew the chances were slim, and they got slimmer with every moment he wasted looking.

He hated where he found him. Off to the side, covered, ignored. Of course. The logic in it was that there were living people to care for. Living people who barely ever knew more pain than a paper cut. Those living came first. Of course, that made sense. Of course, it was the correct course of action. Noctis still hated it. He would hate it more when he lay in bed alone so much later, when it was all he could see in his mind's eye.

Even as he pulled back the covering, he was pulling the old and by now very crumpled phoenix down from the folds of his jacket. Thank goodness these things didn't have an expiration date. He'd been carrying it for nearly as long as he could remember. Someone (no one who mattered, anyone who mattered would understand) would scold him for using it on a commoner later. Phoenix downs were pretty rare; that was why only royalty carried them. You weren't supposed to waste them. Noctis would never consider it a waste.

The feather lit up as it burned through it's power. Those flames sunk into Prompto's chest. For a moment, Noctis thought his skin warmed and his cheeks got some color back in them . . . but he didn't start to breathe. No heartbeat ignited in his chest. He was too far gone.

Noctis cried. He cried for a long time after.

He'd managed to pull himself together enough that the tears weren't openly rolling down his face by the time they got to the hospital. The place was in chaos despite the lack of serious injuries. It took him too long to find and follow the trail of breadcrumbs out to the doctor who had initially treated Ignis. It only got worse when he faced the woman. "I'm here to talk about Ignis' condition."

"Who?"

Fuck him, and fuck whoever it was who had laid that fucking bomb. "Lord Scientia." He hated using titles. He always hated it. But he especially hated it when he was talking about his friends.

"Oh," the doctor said as she looked down at her clipboard. "Are you family?"

Was he-- Oh, fuck it all! "I am Noctis Lucis-Caelum." He could admit to himself that he liked the way her eyes got wide, just a little. "And this is Gladiolus Amicitia. We should be on the list of acceptable persons." How long ago had they gone through that paperwork? It had to have been high school. That felt like so long ago.

She didn't have a lot of time to spare them, she informed them as they entered a tiny room. He could be a prince all he liked, but she did have other people to see. Fine. He didn't really care all that much about finer details. He just wanted to know how bad it really was.

"By all accounts, he could actually be in a lot worse shape."

"Oh?"

She explained to him that while his eyes were certainly damaged, one of them perhaps beyond the point of regaining its sight, and that he had a "severe" concussion, the rest of him, aside from a few minor scrapes and cuts, was relatively unharmed. "It was surprising," she said, "until we were informed that there was a crownsguard assigned to him." What? Oh no, don't tell him that she was implying what he thought she was. "That crownsguard apparently shielded him but was too short to properly shield his face." She was. Prompto. Oh man. Ignis was not going to deal well with that when he woke up.

"He died. Just so you know."

"Did he?" She said in the most infuriatingly blase way. "Well, he died protecting a very important person. I'm sure that's a relief to him in the After."

And at that, something inside him just snapped. "He didn't die protecting a very important person! He died protecting the man he loved! They were practically married you unfeeling--Ugh!" He pulled himself back just in time from something he was really going to regret. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know. It wasn't her fault that she probably had to separate herself from patients just to cope. None of that made him feel better. "He died protecting his husband!"

Gladio calmly led him out of the room. He knew it was Gladio's job to be calm in these situations, but he hated this too. How? How could he be so calm?! This was Prompto and Ignis! By all accounts, Gladio should be even more upset than he was!

It would be hours later when a tired numbness had come over him as he sat in a chair by Ignis' bed that he would realize he'd said something wrong. Something he should apologize for. "I'm sorry, Gladio."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Back there. With the," he stopped himself from using the word asshole, "doctor. I said that Prompto and Ignis had practically been married, but I didn't mention you. That was wrong. He was practically your husband too."

"It's all right, Noct."

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is. They had a special bond. We both know that. They were together longer. They had more history, and Prompto. Well." He paused, and for a moment Noctis thought he was going to stop there. Gladio sighed. "He was the our linchpin. We would have never worked without him. And I don't know what's going to happen to us now."

That. That was the moment when Noctis said 'Fuck you' to death. He was not going to sit here and let Ignis and Gladio's relationship fall apart because some asshole decided to try and kill some nobles. Fuck. That.

He was going to get Prompto back.

It took some research. He slept and ate some in between, but he spent the rest of the time that Ignis was down researching how to do it. Moogle searches gave a lot of magicless ways: CPR, electric shocks, adrenaline. None of those helped him. The more he dug, the more phoenix downs came up, but the public didn't really know a lot about them. They weren't available to the public. When he decided to go down that rabbit hole anyway, he learned that the public did sell phoenix downs; they just hadn't been magically activated like the ones he and his father carried. He'd known a girl in high school who had always carried a rabbit's foot for luck. He'd found it disgusting, but she swore by it. Apparently, that's very much what people thought of these sorts of phoenix downs. They couldn't actually bring you back from death, but phoenixes were magical and rare. The feathers provided luck and protection. Supposedly.

This was about the first time that the word pinion came up, and then it all clicked together. Noctis actually knew about pinions.

Magic lessons from his father had basically come in four categories: elements, armiger/summoning, healing, and No. Pinions fell under No, and anything that had fallen under No had pretty much been shoved out of his mind as useless. He hadn't really bothered to think about it since. Anything that fell under No wasn't fun, anyway, as it was likely to kill you without any reward involved. He probably hadn't even thought about pinions since he'd been told No about them.

He let Moogle refresh his memory a bit.

What was a pinion? Well, it was a feather, often referred to as flight feathers. Why was it a No? Well, Moogle definitely had to refresh his memory on that point, but it appeared that there were several reasons. One, actually owning a phoenix pinion was apparently illegal. Why? Because unlike down feathers, they didn't fall off naturally. That meant you had to hunt a phoenix down (haha, get it? Man, Ignis would have loved that pun. Noctis rolled his eyes to himself), and considering what sorts of creatures phoenixes were, you probably had to kill it. Permanently. Phoenixes were an endangered species. That was honestly a good enough No all by itself, but if you went further into the sort of magic that a Lucis-Caelum could bring out in a pinion (and Noctis definitely did), it went deeper than that.

A pinion, being a larger, more permanent feather on a phoenix, held nearly significantly more power. It also took nearly as much magic to activate. And if you didn't have enough magic? You died.

Noctis closed Moogle knowing that the moment he wasn't being watched like a hawk he was someway somehow getting his hands on a phoenix pinion. It might kill him. He was going to try anyway.

He went home after Ignis woke up. That was definitely the point of too much emotional turmoil. He ducked out, using the excuse of wanting something other than hospital food to eat and his own bed to sleep in. Gladio offered to go with him, but honestly fuck that shit. Gladio needed to be with his boyfriend. His boyfriend needed Gladio to be with him. Even if he wasn't speaking.

Soon. He wanted to say. I think I found a way. Prompto will be back soon.

Dustin took him home, and for a moment Noctis considered actually just raiding his fridge for whatever was there and falling into bed, but who knew how long he was going to be alone? Who knew if he'd have another opportunity before it was too late? It had to be now.

His research had managed to show him a few stores in one of the lower rings of the city that probably-might-maybe have pinions for sale. They were, of course, being advertised as "reproductions," but Noctis would know when he saw one if it was real. Phoenix feathers surely all had that same look and feel to them. He'd know.

It took a little while for him to dress himself down, to gather up all the cash he had and all the cash he would withdraw without seeming suspicious, and to pull up directions on his phone. It took a little while, but he was ready. He was ready to get on a bus, drive to the bad side of town, and buy some illegal contraband. He was _so_ ready.

And then Iris walked in the door.

"Hey, Gladdy sent me over to be your temporary shield while he stays with Ignis."

If he hadn't been in the middle of something he definitely wasn't supposed to be doing, he might have noticed that her eyes were red and puffy, or that her normal smile was absent from her face. As it was, he froze like the boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Iris noticed as soon as she actually walked into the living room. "What are you doing?"

Here, in the choose your own adventure book called Life, Noctis had to make his choice. Did he try to cover this up? Or did he trust Iris to help him? Ignis or Gladio wouldn't help him do this, but Iris . . . well, Iris might just be down for it.

He took a chance.

"I'm getting cash together so I can go to a really skeevy shop and buy an illegal item I might be able to use to bring Prompto back."

". . . for real?"

"For serious realsies."

"I'm in."

Partner in crime acquired - which was a good thing, because Iris immediately pointed out one big problem. "I don't think you have enough cash."

"No?"

Iris shook her head furiously. "If you can't buy a ton of drugs, you don't have enough."

That brought up one and only one question in Noctis' mind. "How do you know much a ton of drugs would cost me?" Iris only shrugged at him with a not so innocent smile on her face. Yeah. Okay. He was never getting the answer to that one. Time to let it go. "So how do I get more cash? I'm already at my limit for it not setting off alarm bells upstairs."

That smile spread out into a grin. "I got you covered, Noct."

For better or worse, she did. They didn't need to take the bus because Iris had a fairly nondescript car. He spent half the drive there counting her stash. "Why do you have so much cash, Iris? Seriously."

Iris shrugged again, her eyes never leaving the road (Ignis would be proud). "Men are really squeamish."

He felt insulted. Only mildly though. "Okay. Yeah. Probably true, but that doesn't really tell me anything."

"Everyone else in the house is male. So when it comes to, you know, female stuff, Dad just sort of hands me cash."

Female stuff . . . ? Oh. Ohhhhh. Noctis sunk down into his seat, feeling his face burning a bit. Okay. Yeah. Men were squeamish. They totally were. About that. He'd admit it. He'd even admit it happily. "And it's more cash than you need?"

"Yep! And, like, I'm giving him back the change, so . . . "

"So cash."

"Exactly. Never thought I'd be using it for contraband though." She didn't sound sad or mad about it. Instead, she sounded excited. She was practically bouncing in her seat. Noctis allowed some of that mood to infect him. There was a certain thrill and excitement to it, when you overlooked the why.

Miss Luciano's Fortuna Emporium was the third shop they visited, and it was the first one with any real promise. It was located more toward the northside of the city, almost to the docks. It was shoved so far back into an almost literal hole in the wall down an alleyway that if they hadn't had the GPS on his phone shouting instructions at them, they'd have never found it. Noctis was almost positive it was like that by design. The other places they'd been so far had felt like tourist traps, filled with baubles and disposable cameras that no one needed anymore. This place still felt hokey, yet . . . hmm. Noctis couldn't put his finger on the way it made him feel. Uneasy.

Iris must have felt the same way, because it was at this point that she asked, "What are you looking for? Exactly?"

He told her while they stood outside in an alleyway that begged for a mugging. He told her everything. From using the phoenix down, to the conversation with the asshole doctor, to apologizing to Gladio later and what Gladio had said about that, to the resolution that he had to bring Prompto back, and eventually to finding the pinion legends online and remembering what his father had told him about them when he was young.

"So I guess," he said as he leaned back against the wall of the building, "that if you want to back out, now's the time."

"Oh. Fuck. No. I'm a thousand times more committed now!" Iris clenched her fists in determination, and Noctis remembered for the first time that her public cause was the preservation and care of wild animals, especially the endangered kind. Finding a ring of phoenix poachers right under her nose was probably right up her alley.

"Guess we better get going then."

The inside of Miss Luciano's Fortuna Emporium was even worse than the outside. Inside there was a sage incense burning so heavily that it nearly made Noctis cough. It was dark. The first thing he noticed was a blinking eyeball by the door that he knew beyond a doubt was fake yet looked real enough that it might fool some people.

Like any other hole in the wall tourist/niche place, it was practically packed to the gills with stuff. Floor to ceiling practically. There were even spots here Noctis had to duck his head because there were things hanging from the ceiling. Like any cliche movie, they were also the only customers inside the place, though, to be fair, Noctis wasn't sure this place could fit more than three or four people shopping at once. The most space in the entire place was behind the counter, which was blocked off by a glass display case. Behind the case stood a person that Noctis suspected was meant to be Miss Luciano but really looked more like a lanky, college-aged man in the gaudiest fortune teller's costume Noctis had ever seen.

Behind "Miss Luciano" . . . well, that was the interesting bit. There was even more merchandise back there, but specifically what caught Noctis' eye was a basket that was practically overflowing with bright, large, and beautiful feathers. Even at a glance, Noctis knew they were the real deal. There was something about them that called to him. It was almost as though the feathers spoke directly to the magic inside him.

_Freedom,_ they whispered. _Free us._

"Is that them?" Iris' voice broke him from his trance. He looked at her. Oh. Oh man. She looked furious. It would be a moment before the reason why sunk in. With that many feathers there, there was practically no way that it had been a catch and release. Whoever had supplied those feathers had killed a bird. Maybe even more than one.

_Free us._ The whisper was a little more insistent now. It made his heart race with fear in his chest._ Don't leave us here, young Lucii._

"Yeah. They're the real deal."

Iris made a sound that reminded Noctis of a cat chittering at a bird just beyond the window. Maybe he should do the talking.

He did. In his best, calmest princely voice, he asked to see the basket. With a bored expression, Miss Luciano picked it up and put it down on the counter. Miss Luciano was definitely not hearing the spooky whispering. Carefully, Noctis ran his fingers up the sides of a couple feathers. The magic in his veins sang. Oh yeah. He understood why these were a No. "Which one, Iris?"

"All of them."

"What?"

"We're taking. All of them." When he glanced over, Iris was pulling out her cash. All of it. Very much in line with the cliche movie theme, she slammed the whole roll down on the counter, snatched the basket, and ran right out the door. Noctis laughed nervously. He smiled at Miss Luciano.

"Why don't you just . . . count that out and make sure we're not short?"

Miss Luciano did. The whole stack was counted out, and Noctis could barely believe it when two thousand yen was handed back to him. "Have fun with your . . . good luck feathers."

" . . . thanks." Noctis ran out to the car before anyone could change their mind, and Iris ripped out of the parking lot with all the fury of Ramuh. Noctis didn't really notice that bit though. He was too busy listening to the feathers in the back seat.

_...Thank you, young prince._  
_ Yes, thank you._  
_ Our thanks, scion of the Lucii._  
_ We are forever grateful._

Noctis was sure that each and every feather in that basket thanked him. Iris couldn't hear it. He wanted to scream.

The rest of the ride back to his apartment was blissfully quiet. No whispering feathers and Iris seemed to be fuming out her ears too much to be much conversation. Once there, Iris insisted on bringing up the basket herself and fidgeted by the door once she'd put them down by his table. "Do you want me to stay? In case something happens?"

"I think." Noctis made a face as he glanced over at the basket. "I think I should probably have a lot of food to eat?"

"Protein? Sugar?"

"...Both?"

"Done and done." She left again without asking if Noctis wanted to come, which was fine. He didn't really. He trusted Iris to get him things he'd like and he just felt . . . tired. Should he attempt to make one now? While she was gone? Maybe. He plucked a feather from the basket. Like phoenix down, it felt slightly warm under his fingers. It was incredibly soft for a flight sustaining feather.

_You aren't going to hang us on a wall like a decoration, are you, young Lucii?_

"No." He twirled the feather between his fingers. "I am going to use you." Whether the voices were actually the feathers or just his brain projecting pent up emotion . . . it was probably better to talk back.

_Excellent._ All the feathers seemed to agree that this was excellent. They wanted to be used. They wanted to give life to someone who's life had run out. _Tell us who._

"His name was--is Prompto Argentum. He is my best friend."

_That is only one. You would only need one of us. There are many of us._

Noctis took in a deep stabilizing breath. When had he gotten so close to crying? "I am never losing another friend like this. Ever. You will one day all find your homes in the hearts and souls of my friends." Because this wouldn't be the last time. This would not be the only time of them died. They were too young for it to be the only time. Next time, they'd be ready.

_A noble cause._  
_ We will help you._  
_ Give us purpose._

He poured magic into the feather in his hands. That was what it felt like. He was a pitcher pouring into an endless glass. He poured and poured and poured. He poured until he felt his heart stop in his chest. One. Two. Three missed beats. His heart started beating again, and the pinion was complete.

Noctis nearly collapsed against the table, every inch of him trembling. That had nearly killed him. He had felt that he was willing to give him life for this cause, but it was one thing to think it and another thing to live it. It had been terrifying. He could already feel more magic pouring back into him, yet it felt beyond his reach. He sat down in a chair. It felt like it took everything he had.

The feathers were somehow impressed. Noctis was not.

He was still shaking and seated at the table when Iris returned carrying a comically large amount of food. It looked like she had hit up five separate places, for which Noctis was sure he'd be grateful for later. "Are you okay?"

He wasn't. "I will be."

"Do you want me to stay?"

Noctis shook his head. "Go home, Iris." It was already getting late. "You did a great job today. I'll tell Gladio he should be proud."

"Thanks," she whispered. She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It was a comforting touch that Noctis nearly fell asleep to. "You call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." He wouldn't.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Noctis ate two burgers, a giant thing of fries, and half a bag of potato chips. He started to feel better. He felt even better after he fell asleep, face pressed against the table, and woke up only an hour later.

He made another pinion.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

There were five beautiful feathers brimming with magic on the table by the time he'd hit his uppermost limit. Most of the food was gone, and Noctis knew he couldn't make anymore. Not now. The feathers were upset about that. They all wanted to be used, to be activated, but there was nothing Noctis could do about that now. "Look," he told the feathers that remained in the basket, feeling very much a basket case as he did so. "If I make another one, I'll really die. Then no one will ever make you whole. Do you want that?"

_No,_ the feathers murmured in agreement. They didn't want that.

Noctis went to bed.

The next thing he was aware of, it was noon. Fuck. He had things to do.

Getting up was even harder than usual for him, but he took a shower, drank two of Ignis' Ebonys that were shoved in the back of a cabinet where he probably thought Noctis didn't know they were there, and two more cold burgers and half a cake later Noctis was ready to do . . . things.

Things involved getting a hold of Prompto's parents. That wasn't an easy task. It was a game of phone tag, really. Noctis called, Noctis left a message, Noctis moved onto his next task, came back, found a message from them on his end, and then he tried to call back again. By the time he actually got Prompto's mother on the phone it had been two hours and several other phone calls later. He didn't bother with the pleasantries. "You need to come back to Insomnia."

"What's going on?" His mother wasn't a stupid woman, she knew something was wrong. If her tone was anything to go by, she knew it was serious.

"It's not something to say over the phone." Boy, wasn't that the truth? "Please just come back. Go to the Citadel. Reception will have your names. I'll meet you there." He hung up. He couldn't stand more without crying.

He called Luna next. She picked up first ring. Like she was waiting. She probably had been. "Oh, Dear Noctis, I'm so sorry." She already knew. Of course she did. That was all it took for Noctis to break down in tears over the fucking phone. He didn't call her unless it was serious. They both knew that. They wrote letters and emails for a reason. Phone conversations were just so awkward. "Is there anything I can possibly do?"

"I don't think so. The funeral's probably gonna be in a couple days." He said that knowing she couldn't come. Even if she could just leave her duties and fly here, it would take longer than that just to get past PR and the normal hoops. "It's not like he wasn't your friend too." They hadn't written letters or seen each other very often, but the people Luna considered truly friends were few and far between. Prompto had been one of them.

"I'll ensure that someone is there in my stead."

That only made Noctis cry harder, because he was acting like there was going to be a funeral. He was acting like he didn't have a plan in place. Did he not believe in it? Or was Prompto too far gone?

"Whatever it is that you're planning, Noctis--" Noctis stopped short, tears still running down his face. How much had she been shown? "Know you go with the Gods' blessing." He didn't really care about that. "And with mine." That he cared about a lot.

"Thanks, Luna."

Noctis cried for a little bit longer before he managed to pull himself together. Okay. Prompto's parents weren't going to be back in Insomnia until at least nightfall. Noctis wanted to have their son alive to see them by then.

Getting to the hospital was the easy part. No one really questioned him about that. Ignis was there, he hadn't seen Ignis since yesterday, and that was really just all a mess. He didn't really want to see Ignis. Ignis still wasn't talking. Noctis couldn't face that pain. _Just a little longer,_ he kept saying to himself. _Hold on a little longer. He'll be back._

Getting to the hospital was easy. Getting down into the morgue . . . proved to be impossible.

"What do you mean no?"

"I mean no . . . Your Highness." The coroner had guts, Noctis would give her that. She looked him dead in the eye, the prince and she knew it, and told him no. At any other time in his entire life, this would have been impressive to him. It would have made him like her. He liked that in a person - the not giving a shit about his title. Not today. Not when Prompto was in a small little box in the other room. Prompto, who was claustrophobic. Prompto, who would be dead until he administered this feather into his system.

He had to get in there.

It would have been overkill to try and actually access the armiger, so he simply plucked a pen from the coroner's desk and threw it toward the double doors. Finding Prompto's drawer . . . well. He'd worry about that when he got there. The truth was he'd meant to warp after it. He'd warp after it, run into the morgue, and get the pinion to Prompto, hopefully before someone caught up.

He didn't warp after the pen.

Shit.

So that was how much magic he'd used up. So much that he felt okay physically, but the magic wasn't actually there.

"So, we're going to throw things like a child, are we?" He didn't even bother to reply to that, because there wasn't an answer that didn't make him look even more childish. She called upstairs. Gladio was downstairs in about ninety seconds. How he'd done it, Noctis wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I can't believe you did that." That was the start of the scolding, and it was about all that Noctis listened to. He wouldn't understand. He'd call it grief. It was. It was grief, but it was also more. It had been hope.

Gladio and Ignis didn't have hope. Noctis had to give them results.

Later, when he had to tell Mr. and Mrs. Argentum that their son was (still) dead, it had been even worse. He had never been very good with comfort after all. All he'd been able to do was provide good phone numbers and flower shop recommendations.

The funeral was the worst. Noctis chose not to remember most of it. It wasn't much, anyway. He knew everyone that showed up, including Pryna, who chose to stay mostly hidden in one corner. Of course, Luna would choose to send Pryna. It made sense. He remembered the ceremony being fairly short, and yet him fidgeting in his seat, waiting desperately for it to be over. He wanted it to be over.

Everyone apologized to Ignis and Gladio. They were sorry for their loss. They were so sorry. Only his father apologized to Noctis for his loss, hands set on his shoulders, eyes in a determined sadness. Noctis hated it. It was as though, even among this small group of people, that just because he hadn't slept with him, hadn't wanted to kiss him and call him Honey, that his love was lesser. It wasn't. Was it? Noctis normally tried to not let his lack of sexuality get to him, but boy did he feel broken in that moment.

Gladio was still angry at him for trying to break into the coroner's office. Probably. It felt like it. Prompto was dead, Ignis was gone, and Gladio was eternally angry. There wasn't much left for him in life after that.

After the ceremony itself came the viewing before burial. This was to be his only opportunity. He insisted on going up alone. He tried to be as subtle as he could, opening up his jacket and removing a giant fiery feather and Ignis' apartment key from within. Would it work, now that it had been nearly five days? Would it work, now that he'd actually been embalmed? There was only one way to find out. Feigning a moment of extreme grief, he leaned over the casket and activated the feather. It burned up and soaked down into him.

Nothing changed at all.

He was too late.

It was bad enough just on his end, but when he told Iris and she fell into his arms sobbing, Noctis was just done emotionally. He needed to get away.

Apparently the expectation was that he'd be back at the Citadel the next day acting as though nothing had happened. Ignis was barred from working until his eye problem cleared up one way or the other, but he and Gladio were expected to be there as though a funeral was the end of grieving. Fuck that. Gladio could pretend he'd worked through all his emotions. Noctis was staying in bed. He was still exhausted from making the pinions, anyway. The sleep came to him even more easily than normal, and anyone that dared to wake him with calls about coming in to preform his duties got a nice "Fuck off. I'm grieving."

The only thing he got out of bed for was Ms. Marbles. Once a day, Noctis bothered to drag himself up to Ignis' (and Prompto's) empty apartment to take care of their cat. It wasn't really a task that took long, but Noctis always stayed longer than he needed to, anyway. Ms. Marbles had always been cuddly, so maybe he was imagining it, but she seemed to settle in on his shoulder and not want to let go every day. Noctis wondered if she knew Prompto was never returning.

Aside from that, he stayed in bed for two days. It wasn't until Friday evening that he woke up to a different ache in his chest. He missed Prompto, but now he was starting to miss his other friends, too. The country could keep on moving without him for a couple days, but he wanted to do something . . . fun, if not normal, with his friends. He wanted to see them and not constantly think about their fourth who wasn't there.

"We're going to the aquarium tomorrow," he told Gladio in a phone call.

"Why the aquarium?"

Noctis shrugged, even though Gladio couldn't see it. "Specs is still recovering from that head trauma, right? The aquarium is quiet and distracting. Let's go."

Noctis was pretty sure they only came out of obligation to their prince, but he still felt a little bit better to see them, even though they both still looked like shit. He probably looked like shit, too.

They'd gotten through most of the aquarium and had spent most of the day there before Ignis admitted that a migraine was coming on. It dampened his spirits a little. Were things ever going to get better? Looking at Ignis just then, it felt like no. This was the new normal. He'd never really know happiness again. In time he'd probably forget what it even felt like.

Gladio drove them home, and Noctis opted to climb the stairs, if only because Ignis honestly looked like he was about to stab the next person who came within stabbing distance. It . . . It would be a while before he'd try to mend them again. Gods, he was such a failure. He couldn't even make his friends happy for a day.

He went to sleep more than half wishing he'd never wake up.

He did, of course. He woke up, and everything was still terrible. He ate some Poptarts that tasted like dust and failure and mentally tried to prepare himself to head up to the Citadel tomorrow, because if he didn't go he probably wasn't going to just get some calls telling him he was missing a meeting. He'd probably get Cor at the door. You didn't want to get Cor at the door.

At some point his phone pinged with Ignis' personal text ringer. He picked it up expecting some half-assed thank you for the "good time" at the aquarium. Instead he got something weirder.

**Ignis, 10:57 a.m.** : _Come up to the apartment when you can._

What the fuck? What the fuck kind of text was that? He never (okay, not never, but hardly ever) went up to their apartment when they were there. They always came down to him. Noctis was pretty sure they didn't even like him being in their love nest.

**Noctis, 10:57 a.m.** : _Why?_

It pinged again a couple minutes later.

**Ignis, 10:59 a.m.** : _It might be better for you to see for yourself._

That was the most unhelpful thing ever. Ugh. Fine.

**Noctis, 11:00 a.m.** : _omw_

He didn't bother waiting for the elevator. He took the stairs two by two. An unknown emotion that lay somewhere between excitement and dread swirled in his gut, and it took more willpower than he cared to admit to lift his hand and simply knock on the door.

It was Gladio who answered, which was weird all by itself, because Gladio had been going back to the Amicitia estate the last time he'd seen him. "Hey?"

"Hey." His voice seemed softer, and not in the 'Ignis has a headache so I'm being as soft as possible' way. It only made him feel more suspicious. It must have showed on his face, because Gladio gave a soft laugh (which was even more fucking suspicious) as he came in. "Come on, to the dining room. Don't freak out."

Despite the warning, the first thing he did upon seeing Prompto sitting at the table was freak out. In the good way. It was after he'd thrown himself at Prompto that questions started being asked. Which was fair. He had kind of implicated himself, but now that there were visible results in front of them, they couldn't be mad at him.

They tried. Gladio tried to pitch a fit about how dangerous it had been to go downtown by himself. It got even worse when he admitted that Iris had been with him. Noctis wasn't sure which one Gladio viewed as worse: his prince going or his sister going. Maybe they were both equally bad things that compounded when they were together. Yet, no matter how upset he seemed, there was a sharpness to it that was missing. There was no edge, no real anger, and it was much the same with Ignis. Ignis himself was more concerned about how dangerous actually making the pinions had been. They were illegal for more than just the creature they came from, after all, but his usual calculating coldness on such matters was missing. They both kept glancing at Prompto, and Noctis knew he'd won.

"Look," Ignis said in the end with a sigh. "You shouldn't have done it. It was dangerous and illegal on multiple levels. Yet." He reached out with one shaking hand and let his fingers trail along Prompto's cheek. Noctis couldn't even bring himself to call it disgusting. After all, he too wanted to cling and never let go. "I can't argue with the results."

Noctis went back down to his apartment after dinner with a sense of a day that had felt far too normal for what it really was. Filled with a feeling of otherness, he threw himself onto his couch and pulled up a puzzle game to play. For the first time in a week, he didn't want to sleep. Prompto was alive, and the world would be okay - his world would be okay.

The next time he looked up from the screen it was because there was a knock at his door. The clock read nearly midnight.

Behind the door, he found Prompto. It was an honest to gods fight to not simply pull him into his arms again. It was real. He didn't need to confirm it every single time. "Hey, what's up?"

"Can . . . can I come in?"

"Of course." He stepped aside. "What's up?"

" . . . couldn't sleep."

"Do they know you're here?" Normally, Noctis didn't in any way condone someone having to know where you were 24/7. He was the prince, so he often felt like he had that kind of surveillance, and he hated it. Yet, just now, he wouldn't blame Ignis or Gladio for waking up to find him not there and freaking the fuck out.

"Yeah, I left, like, ten sticky notes in various spots."

"Okay."

They sat back on the couch and Noctis switched them over to one of the games they normally played together. Prompto said he didn't remember that one, but they played it anyway, at least for a little while, until Noctis caught on that there was more to this visit than just Prompto not being able to sleep. "Okay," he sighed, putting the game on pause. "What's really up?"

He waited. Noctis really wasn't what he's consider a patient person, but he waited for Prompto to pull himself together. It took a little bit, hands still holding the controller settled loosely in his lap, eyes determinedly looking up at the ceiling and not at him. "I don't think I should be here."

The words hurt. They hurt a lot, yet he felt like he should have seen it coming. It was Prompto. Of course, he felt like it was weird or he wasn't worthy or some other bullshit. Noctis took a breath and leaned back. "Did you really like the After that much?"

"I. I . . . don't remember everything." Yeah, Noctis remembered that being said earlier. It was probably a good thing, and the other things would probably come back. "But I don't think there's an After." Oof. Yeah, that was definitely not something Noctis wanted to hear. He'd deal with that bomb later.

"Then why go back?"

"Huh?"

Noctis shrugged and felt himself sink down in his seat a little. "If there's no After, why would you want to go back to a Void? You're here. Who cares about the why?" It only took the slightest of self nudges for him to fall to one side, his head colliding with Prompto's shoulder. "You're here. We want you here. Just stay."

It was a long time before Prompto said, "Okay."

The was after three in the morning when the next knock at the door came. Noctis had never fallen asleep, but Prompto had at some point, and until that very moment, he'd felt rather . . . stuck. He imagined everything was actually really exhausting for Prompto and hadn't wanted to wake him, but when the knock came, he risked it only for Prompto to not move at all. Good.

Of the two people he'd expected to find, it was Gladio. "He asleep yet?"

"Yeah. You can take him." Gladio managed to lift him up in his arms like he weighed nothing, and Prompto only turned his face into Gladio's chest like the heat seeker he was.

"You should get some sleep, too." Gladio said as he moved toward the door. "We've got work in the morning."

The softness of Gladio's voice wasn't lost on him. Noctis smiled.

"Yeah. We do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cor: what do we say to the god of death, Noctis?  
Noctis: Not today


	5. It Caught On in a Flash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
> 
> Please enjoy the last chapter of this AU within an AU.
> 
> *looking at the wordcount* Omg, did I really write over 20,000 words in two weeks? *screaming*

Prompto was fidgeting.

He was trying not to fidget, but he was also trying to not worry and trying to ignore the way the doctor kept glancing over at him and glaring. He knew the doctor was glaring at him, because she thought he shouldn't be here. But she also couldn't say anything about it, because the_ crown prince of Lucis_ had opted to stay in the waiting room with his phone and a six month old issue of _Good Housekeeping_ to occupy him so that Prompto could sit here and watch. With all of that on his mind, it was very hard to not fidget.

Ignis placed hand on his knee, and for a moment Prompto stilled. "It's going to be fine, Darling."

"What if she takes it all off and you can't see?"

"Then I'll adjust. I'd still have one eye. I wouldn't be totally blind."

It wasn't a good enough answer. Prompto began to fidget again. He didn't stop until the doctor began the process of removing everything. He knew Ignis had been changing the bandages on his own every day, but he also knew it was a quick thing, and he'd been keeping his eye closed. No one knew. No one knew if he could see . . . or if the damage had been too extensive.

Gladio slipped a hand into his. Prompto held onto it like his life depended on it.

Watching the doctor take off the bandages was like watching someone do a striptease. A little bit here and there, and taking entirely too long to do it. Gladio would later tell him it had only taken a couple of minutes, but Prompto swore it was an hour before Ignis' face was completely clear. Though most of the bruising and scrapes had finally healed up by this point, without the bandages, Prompto could see the angry red skin that would become scars on his face. It made the other ones, like the small one on his lip, stand out. Ignis said it didn't really hurt anymore, yet Prompto's own face throbbed in sympathy to see it.

The doctor had him keep his eye closed for a couple more minutes (read: another hour), and then open it very slowly. He was at the wrong angle to see Ignis' eye right on, and it was killing him. He held his breath until the doctor asked what he could see.

"It's very bright. I can't see much of anything." Prompto's heart sunk in his chest until the doctor, who had been frowning until this point, smiled.

"That's good. That's very good." She did some other checks, all the sorts of checks you expected doctors on T.V. to do, and then she said, "Yeah, it looks like you'll be fine in a little while, though no driving for twenty-four hours, just to be sure. You might want to wear sunglasses until your eyes adjust again. You may also get a headache later on, but it looks like you should be fine. I'd like to see you in a couple weeks for a followup, but otherwise, you're free to go."

"Really?" Prompto squeaked out, and the doctor nodded without looking at him.

"Really."

While the doctor got Ignis a prescription for a headache medication, Ignis pulled out a pair of sunglasses from one of his jacket pockets. "You knew?"

" . . . I suspected I'd need them either way."

Prompto felt his head tilt without even meaning to. "Either way?"

"You cannot tell me it's pretty. Not at this stage."

Ah. The sunglasses would also hide the scarring a little. "It's not terrible," Prompto admitted. "But you and I now have a daily date with the couch and Mederma."

Ignis choked out a laugh. "Is that so?"

"Yep."

"Hey," Gladio ribbed him with an elbow, and Prompto squeaked. "I don't remember any such dedication when I got my eye cut."

"Yes, well, you're you. A scar only adds to the merit of your role as Noct's Shield. Iggy, on the other hand, has a beautiful and diplomatic face that must be preserved as much as possible."

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely!" Prompto squawked. "How dare you doubt me!" They probably would have kept quibbling about it, if the doctor hadn't returned at precisely that moment with the prescription. They let the matter drop at that point.

Noctis met them in the waiting room after apparently (very happily) prying himself away from several older women who had chosen to sit around him. ("I swear, you read the first two pages of _Good Housekeeping_, and they think you're a househusband and definitely want to talk about your wreath weaving!") After he got the good news that Ignis would probably be seeing fine soon, he took them out to lunch and then drove them home. Prompto was always shotgun, and normally that meant sitting next to Ignis or Gladio, but with Noctis at the wheel, he was reduced to just glancing back at his lovers from time to time. They were being suspicious. Leaning in toward one another, but not actually touching, talking in low tones so that they couldn't hear them with the top down. They were definitely plotting something, but they wouldn't admit it. Eventually, Prompto let it go. It was probably work related.

It was only about one in the afternoon by the time they arrived back at their building. Prompto couldn't help but feel like it was later than that. Time was all sorts of skewed, he was finding. Perhaps his body was still trying to catch up with being alive. Even now, he still didn't quite remember everything, he didn't think. Day by day, it was getting better. He remembered more, but some things still eluded him . . . like the incident itself.

He tried to push that from his mind. Just stay, Noctis had said. He was trying to do that.

Prompto hadn't noticed that Noctis had followed them right up to their apartment until they were there. It was unusual. Noctis' place was smaller, yet it was practically their headquarters. They all met there, not here.

He wasn't left wondering why for long. Noctis hadn't even taken his shoes off at the door. He'd simply followed them into the dining area and then spoke. "I want to see." No one asked what he wanted to see. Ignis simply humored him by sliding the sunglasses off his face and letting Noctis look. "How well can you see?"

"I can almost make out your eye color properly."

"That's about normal, isn't it?"

Even from the side, Prompto could tell that Ignis was smiling. "Without my normal glasses? Yes. I may need to have the prescription adjusted, but I was about due for that, anyway."

Noctis took in an audibly deep breath. "Okay."

"Now." The sunglasses were sat down on the table with a soft clack. "Prompto."

"Yeah?"

"I've been wondering about your appetite - whether it has been altered or not."

Before Prompto could process anything about that statement at all, Noctis was making disgusted noises. "I can't believe you guys. Why are you like this? I just. I can't even. Ugh!" Gladio was trying (and failing) to stifle his laughter as Noctis leaned down and made little kissy noises. Ms. Marbles came out of the woodwork and Noctis scooped her up in his arms. "Me and the baby are going to have a nice, quiet afternoon!" He barely managed to snag her harness and leash on the way out the door. It wasn't until that moment that Prompto fully realized that Ignis had not been talking about his appetite for _food_ at all.

"Well?" His eyes flicked back over to Ignis, whose smile had widened a little. "Has your appetite changed at all?"

Prompto could feel his face heat up a little. Even now, years later, it still felt like he was a teenager with a crush. "I don't know," he admitted quietly. He hadn't really thought about it. He'd been focused on other things. For once.

Ignis' smile finished its transformation into a smirk. "Let's find out, shall we?"

That was all the warning he got before there were two pairs of hands on him. Ignis' started on his cheeks, drawing his face upward into a kiss. Gladio's started on his waist, lips on the back of his neck. Those hands quickly made their way under his shirt and up to his chest even as Ignis's own made their way down to Prompto's belt.

"You two fucking planned this," he accused harshly against Ignis' lips. "This is what you were talking about in the car!"

"Why, Darling," Ignis said in the most unconvincing manner, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Prompto meant to argue that point more. He'd meant to make Ignis and/or Gladio confess to plotting against him, but Ignis had made quick work of his belt, and even quicker work of his buttons and zipper, and Prompto didn't think about much more than that for a while, though perhaps halfway through their fun, Prompto bothered to think that no, his appetite hadn't been affected at all.

There was a knock on the door at a quarter to six. Gladio whistled low. "He's lucky."

"Lucky?" Prompto raised an eyebrow. "We've been dressed for a whole hour."

Gladio snorted. "Yeah, and I've been thinking about taking those clothes back off for a whole hour." Prompto sighed, refusing to admit that he'd been thinking much the same thing as Ignis went to actually answer the door. As they all thought, it was Noctis with Ms. Marbles over his shoulder.

"While you three were wasting your afternoon--"

"Oh no," Ignis interjected. "That was not a waste of anything."

Even from this angle, Prompto could see Noctis roll his eyes. He set back into the task of removing Ms. Marbles' harness. Her tail flicked back and forth somewhat patiently as he did. "I went to see my father. He said that it'll take a couple weeks or so to undead Prompto, paperwork-wise." Prompto groaned. That was a couple weeks or so of torture, that was what that was. "If you wanted to go back to work, he said you could go talk to Cor. He also casually mentioned that Cor will be in his office until eight today."

With his bit said and Ms. Marbles' harness off, Noctis immediately retreated back down to his apartment. It wasn't but a minute or two after that before Ignis was pulling the beginnings of dinner off the stove. "Dinner can wait," he said before either of them could ask. "Let's go see the Marshal."

Rush hour had just started to thin out. With that in mind, it was almost a miracle that they found themselves walking into Cor's office before seven. They came in on a scene that Prompto suspected he'd seen even more than he remembered seeing. Cor was sitting at his desk filling out paperwork that had probably been put off for a week, because if there was one thing Cor Leonis hated, it was paperwork. As though to prove the point, Cor was very quick to shut the folder he'd had open when he noticed that they'd arrived.

Cor did not smile. It was a well known fact, yet Prompto thought he saw an almost smile cross his face. "Ah. It's good to see you, Lieutenant Commander."

The gears in Prompto's brain jammed. "What?" He gaped. "No. No! I'm a lieutenant!" He remembered that now. He remembered getting those promotions, and he remembered getting the rank of lieutenant and thinking that this was a good rank. It was high enough that people would respect him and stop poking at him, but also still low enough that most people wouldn't really think he was hoity toity or think he was capable of giving orders. "I am definitely a lieutenant!"

Cor did not smile, but he definitely smirked. "Did you really think you could die saving over one hundred Lucian nobles and not get a promotion?" Fuck. Prompto pressed his hands against his eyes. Fuck, yeah, that made sense. Of course, you'd get a promotion for that. He couldn't even remember that! Had anyone ever tried to appeal a promotion before? Probably not. If he tried, he'd probably get laughed right on out of there.

Cor seemed to be reading his mind. "If you want to stop getting promotions, Prompto, you'd better stop saving people."

Fuck. It was too late for that, apparently. Lieutenant Commander was a pretty high rank, as far as Prompto was concerned.

They actually got to talking about business after that. Cor apparently had no problems whatsoever with letting him come back to work even though he was still dead in the eyes of the law and paperwork. Prompto wasn't surprised to hear that. You would think being a Crownsguard would be a highly sought after position, but it wasn't. They were always a little short staffed. Cor said he would be happy to have him back bright and early in the morning, when they'd do a fitness check. That was fine with Prompto.

"Just one more thing before I send you three on your way."

"Yes, sir?"

"I heard you had to climb out of your own grave when you woke up."

"Yeah. I. I thought I'd been buried alive."

"I'm sorry about that. I was buried alive when I was younger. It's why we have the required reading. It was hard for me then, and I'm not claustrophobic."

"It wasn't . . . really . . . that hard?" Prompto bowed his head, feeling eyes on him. "I remember being really upset, of course, but. It was pretty easy to actually dig myself out. Easier than I thought it'd be, for sure." When he thought back on it . . . yeah, he'd wanted to scream and cry because it was a small space, but really, the rest of it, the collapsing the casket, the digging himself out and so on had been . . . easy.

"Hmm."

Oh no. Prompto bit his lip. He knew that sound out of Cor's mouth. Nothing good ever came out of Cor hmming at him.

"I'll see you in the morning, Prompto."

_Yep,_ Prompto thought as Ignis touched his elbow to prompt him into getting up. _Yep. I'm going to get slaughtered in drills tomorrow._ Still, with Gladio's hand sliding into his own and Ignis' still on his elbow, it was okay. It was just one morning of killer drills. He'd have a lot more mornings, afternoons, and nights with the men on either side of him.

For the first time "just staying" felt "just right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DID NOT FIGURE OUT AND WERE WONDERING ABOUT THE CHAPTER TITLES. <3
> 
> Prompto: Monster Mash (Both Times)  
Gladio: Purple People Eater  
Ignis: Witch Doctor  
Noctis: Ghostbuster's Theme
> 
> I consider this one last little treat to all of you, as it is Halloween, these are all excellent songs to be listening to on Halloween. <3


End file.
